


Definately Not The Jackal

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-03
Updated: 2009-03-03
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 53,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A sapphic scandal hits The White House and threatens the President's hopes of winning a second term. But there's much more at stake than the presidency - in The West Wing, no ones life will ever be the same again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

The story broke, ironically, just after CJ had put on the lid for the night. She bid the press good night, went to her office, and found photographic evidence of the story in a brown envelope on her desk. Not that she needed the newsflash particularly since in actual fact, the story wasn’t really news to her at all. She was more than familiar with it, having been living and breathing it for the previous six weeks.

That said her first reaction was one of disbelief, quickly followed denial, then full blown panic. She scoured the envelope itself for some kind of clue to identity of the sender, and then, not finding one turned her attention to the internet and going in search of a definition for the word ‘Treason’. She found plenty, but non that could confirm or deny whether a certain act, the act the photos pictured her in the middle of, could be considered as such. Regardless of this she suspected the answer, when it came, would not be good.

She reached for the phone but when she made to dial her fingers hovered uncertainly above the keypad. Who the hell did one call at a moment like this? She knew who she wanted to talk to, but who she wanted to talk to and who she should be talking to were too very separate things, and it didn’t matter who she did ring really – the end result was going to be the same; tears and tantrums were very much going to be the order of the day. Well, tears, tantrums and the odd moment of perversity – but that was what working with boys was all about.

She glanced down the White House telephone extension list which lay on her desk beside the now discarded envelope and scattered photos, the names and numbers blurring as she realized for the first time she was crying. It wasn’t the getting caught that had caused the sudden unexpected show of emotion, it was the fact that after weeks of lies and ducking and diving it was all over, and she was just starting to realize how tired she was of it all.

“CJ?”

Glad of the interruption she looked up, hoping the tears in her eyes wouldn’t be too obvious to Donna, who had appeared in the doorway, and looked, CJ thought, like she’d had nearly as bad a day as she had, if that was in any way at all possible. She forced a smile, as she surreptitiously slid the photos under the telephone list, wanting to shield them from view.

“Don’t want to hear it. The lid is on.”

“I know the lid is on. I’m headed off. Hence my coat.” Donna pointed out helpfully, “I need Martinis – Josh has driven me to distraction today. Want to join me?”

The mention of Martinis was something of a double edged sword to CJ. On one hand, any form of alcohol would have been beneficial at that moment, but on the other hand, with Martinis came memories, and it really, really wasn’t the right moment for them. Plus, much as she’d have liked to have joined Donna, it wasn’t exactly an option.

“I’d love to.” She said, lowering herself into her chair, “But I can’t. I have to talk to,” she floundered, glancing at the telephone list again, “someone. About a thing.”

“A thing?”

She nodded, “A thing. A big thing.” She took a deep breath, “Donna, if you’d made an error, a grave error, who would you tell?”

“I’d tell Josh.” The Assistant replied, in a way that made her seem incredibly sweet and endearing to CJ, until she followed it up with, “What kind of grave error? A ‘the President is glad to be focusing on something that really matters’ error.” For one, she didn’t appreciate the reminder of her earlier mistake, and two, she didn’t appreciate the fact that it only served to highlight what trouble she was in. That had been a mere molehill compared to the mountain she was currently facing.

She sighed, “Just a grave error. Lets leave it at that shall we?”

Donna smiled genially, “Ok. Good luck with that. See you tomorrow.”

It was an optimistic salutation CJ suspected. There was every chance she wasn’t going to be there tomorrow.

xxx

She ended up outside Leo’s door. She could have gone to Toby, but somehow it felt better to get to ‘the top’ in one fowl swoop.

Well, almost to ‘the top’. The actual top was not somewhere she was yet ready to go.

Margaret was, as ever, in residence, but like all good Assistants she knew from one look at CJ’s face that now wasn’t the time to be barring the door and quickly ushered her inside to where Leo was waiting.

He knew her face too. Knew instantly that she wasn’t bearing good news. Looked at her questioningly, “CJ?”

There was an easy way out, she knew that. She could just take the envelope in her hands, and give it to him. Let him see for himself the mess she’d got herself into. But she couldn’t do it. She owed it to him to tell him herself.

“Well here’s the thing.” She laughed then, giggled nervously – a gallows giggle she thought it was called, an uncontrollable urge to laugh at just the wrong moment, because you couldn’t believe that life could be so wrong, “You know how I do The Jackal?”

The confusion on his face was clear, and she found herself inwardly pleading with him to go with her. To listen to what she had to say, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

To her relief, he nodded, and gestured for her to continue.

“Well now, now I do The Jackal for fun, because it entertains you guys, but when I first did it, I was drunk.” She paused, momentarily remembering the first time she’d done her now favourite party piece. The levels of heady adoration she felt from her ‘audience’, fast followed by the utter humiliation she felt the next morning when she woke up under a conference table at the PR firm she was working for at that time and remembered what she’d done in the middle of the office party, in front of a multitude of important clients. “I was drunk, and so I did something stupid. That’s what I do when I’m drunk.” She didn’t pause to ask Leo if he knew what that was like. She knew he did. “I do stupid things.”

Leo looked at her for a long time, as if bracing himself for what was to come – as if he could – and then, sounding a little like a tired parent at the end of his tether, he asked the question she really didn’t want to hear.

“What did you do CJ?”

She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and bottled it, handing him the envelope without another word.

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**6 Weeks Earlier**

The story began with an unexpected phone call. Again, it was just after full lid, and CJ was toying with her options for the rest of the evening; a Chinese takeout and the opportunity to get to grips with some paperwork, or an empty flat and tasteless convenience food; neither option being particularly appealing, which why she was relieved when the phone rang, and the caller gave her a third option; a somewhat surprising third option, but a welcome one all the same.

It was surprising because, even as Press Secretary to the President of the United States of America, it was a rare occurrence to be invited into ‘the residence’ to get, quote, “blind drunk” with the First Lady.

Still, such an invitation had been issued, and so 10 minutes later, CJ was ushered through a doorway by an official looking steward, and found herself in a cosy drawing room, in the presence of that very woman.

Curled up on a plush sofa, in front of a roaring fire. In her pyjamas.

Not exactly what she’d been expecting…

The First Lady smiled when she saw her, not the smile that CJ had seen her put on for visiting dignitaries or millions of voters, but a far more natural one, far more genuine.

“Claudia Jean, you came.”

The smile was infectious but as CJ smiled back she couldn’t help feeling concerned by the slight slur in the First Lady’s voice. Obviously she was arriving late to a party that had been going on for some time.

“Good evening Mrs Bartlet.”

At her words, the aforementioned smile faded from the other woman’s face, only to be replaced by an almost childlike pout,

“Abbey, Claudia Jean, its Abbey.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had the discussion, and would no doubt not be the last. CJ had always found it awkward. On some levels, yes, Abbey was ‘Abbey’ – but, at the same time, there protocol to be taken into account – and she was also the wife of the Commander in Chief. It wasn’t always easy to know which salutation to use in which situation.

That said, in the cosy environs of the drawing room, with ‘Abbey’ dressed in white linen YSL pyjamas, it was an easier distinction to make, especially considering the other woman’s obvious insistence, and so, CJ relented – on one condition;

“Fine, but if it’s Abbey, it’s CJ.”

Abbey wrinkled her nose, looking more than a little disappointed, “But CJ is so formal. Can’t I call you something better? Claud maybe? I bet your sorority sisters called you Claud.”

CJ laughed, “The fact you think I had sorority sisters make me realize how little you know me.”

Abbey got to her feet, albeit with a slight wobble as she did so, “Point conceded, which is one of the reasons you’re here. The other being that I’m bored of drinking alone.” She walked over to a mahogany drinks cabinet in one corner of the room (a gift from the Brazilian Ambassador, CJ noted) and began mixing Martini’s with an impressive level of dexterity for someone who was obviously already three sheets to the wind, “Do you know the worst thing about being the First Lady CJ?” She added, breaking away from her task momentarily to turn to face her.

CJ suspected that there were many terrible things about being the First Lady. The press intrusion for one, and having your husband shot at being a second, quite without the potential third and fourth that were having to forfeit your medical license and your husband being censured by Congress. It was hard to know where Abbey expected her to begin. Luckily though, it appeared the question was rhetorical because she wasn’t given chance to respond.

“I went through my address book tonight, and I don’t have a single friend in DC. I have acquaintances, I have political allies, I have my youngest daughter but she doesn’t answer her god damn phone, because I am only her mother after all.” She brandished an olive on a cocktail stick around, is if illustrating her point with it, although CJ really wasn’t sure what it meant, “But I don’t have a single solitary friend, not here. They’re all back in Manchester, and if I invite them down,” she dropped the olive into one of the drinks she’d mixed and then pushed it into CJ’s hand, “I have to be a hostess, a tour guide, I have to be the First Lady. And I don’t want to be CJ. I want to be Abbey.”

Her outpouring, which should have seemed incongruous from a woman usually so unruffled and in control of herself, in actual fact made the pieces fall into place. Suddenly, the pout she’d given earlier made sense to CJ. So did the fact she’d been given the invite in the first place. And the state Abbey was in.

It appeared that ‘Mrs Bartlet’ wanted a night off.

XXX

It took Leo a long time to say anything after she gave him the envelope. He emptied it of its contents and then just looked, and looked, and looked, and looked. It might actually have been for just mere seconds, but to CJ it felt like a lifetime. The silence was unbearable.

Then, however, he spoke, and that was even worse.

“CJ. This is you. This is you and the First Lady.”

She knew that – of course she knew that – but she could tell from the way that he was looking at her that he expected a response, and she didn’t have the first clue what to say. She wanted to try and explain, but how could she? Clearly the Jackal story hadn’t explained it, so what else would? Instead she opted for the most mundane answer imaginable,

“I know Sir.” The Sir was necessary, she knew that. Now wasn’t the time to try and work her personal friendship with Leo, or anyone else in the West Wing – to do so wouldn’t help in the slightest.

Leo glanced down at the photos again, then back up at her, clearly unable to believe what he was seeing, a fact that was reflected by the incredulity in his voice when he spoke again,

“But CJ, you’re…”

“Don’t.” She cut him dead instantly, unable to bear the thought of him putting into words exactly what she was doing, “Please, I know what I was doing. I don’t want to hear it.”

He looked at her sharply, “You don’t want to hear it? You don’t want to hear it?” He shook his head, clearly disgusted with her, “I can think of someone else who’s not going to want to hear it, but he’s going to have to.”

He heart sank. Leo wasn’t saying anything she didn’t know. She’d known full well from the second she’d seen the photos that this wasn’t going to go away, that there was no burying it, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She took a deep breath, “You’re going to tell him?”

There was a moments silence, and then, when Leo spoke again, things went even further down hill.

“No CJ, you are.”

X X X


	3. Chapter 3

“So you didn’t even try and pledge to a sorority?”

It was some half an hour later, and CJ, who had ditched her jacket and tossed her shoes to one side, was sat on a Persian rug (authentic – another presidential gift), her third Martini of the night in hand, on the receiving end of Abbey’s incredulity that she’d never fallen into the sorority/frat life that American universities did so ‘well’. Abbey herself was sprawled on the sofa, on her fourth Martini of the half hour, quite aside from everything she’d had before, but considerably perkier since she’d realized CJ was happy to go along with her plans for a girls night in.

“Nope.” CJ replied – for the third time, shaking her head, “I knew the ones I wanted wouldn’t want me, and the ones that wanted me, well,” she shrugged, “I didn’t want them, which is why,” she sipped her drink, “I suspect that my entire life since has been one long hazing ritual. Someone didn’t want me to miss out on the fun.” She finished, drawing quotation marks in the air as she said the word fun.

Abbey, lacking in the grace and elegance that made her such a perfect First Lady, spat an olive stone in CJ's direction, which only narrowly missed crash landing in her drink, “Sororities were fun. I loved mine. Our house was to die for.”

CJ laughed, knowing full well that Abbey’s sorority was doubtlessly one of those who in those days would have considered her too graceless and geeky to be added to their hallowed list of members.

“Well say what you like, but frankly, I loved my little off campus bedsit. It had a certain je ne sais quoi.”

Abbey, who had been getting to her feet to, apparently, mix yet another drink, looked at her skeptically, “A certain je ne sais quoi?”

“Absolutely,” CJ nodded, finishing the drink in her hand in anticipation of the replacement that she knew was sure to follow shortly, “I suspect it was probably the cockroaches. Or,” she added, grimacing slightly at the memory, “The 50 year old pervert next door who was keen to get into my knickers.” His name had been Dwight, she recalled, and he wore blue striped boxer shorts and not a lot else.

Her words prompted a sigh of discontentment from Abbey, followed by an outburst not befitting a woman of her position,

“I miss people trying to get into my knickers.”

There was a stunned silence, as even she managed to be taken aback by what she’d said, let alone CJ who, if nothing else, was saved from having to respond as she choked on an olive, which also broke the silence as Abbey had to come to her rescue. That said, it wasn’t something she could leave alone, not now it had been put on the table.

“Are you missing Mr Bartlet that much?” She asked hesitantly, more surprised than anything. She’d always known that the couple were close, but the President had only been gone 13 hours, and he was due back from his trip the following day.

Abbey stirred the martini she was making moodily, apparently having perfected the art of portraying her mood through drink related body language, “It’s not his absence that bothers me, it’s the lack of,” her moody look disappeared and instead she looked a little embarrased, “barbequing that bothers me. In fact, it’s the whole concept of barbequing. How many couples do you know who have a code word for their sex life Claud?”

CJ let the Claud go, too aghast at the turn the conversation was taking to argue. She dealt with reporters every day in the press pit who would hack off their own genitals to be in her shoes, and in on the conversation at that moment, and yet she didn’t have the first idea how to handle it. And she'd handled a lot of difficult conversations during her time in the West Wing.

Eventually she opted for the old CJ staple. Humour.

“Oh I don’t know, I had a boyfriend once who referred to it as ‘the piggy going to market’.” She glanced at the other woman hopefully, slightly concerned that the joke might not go down very well, but to her relief Abbey was laughing.

“You’re dating the wrong men. You must let me fix you up with someone more suitable.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“I’ll work on it.” Abbey sank down onto the floor beside her, proffering as expected, another drink and suddenly looking utterly miserable, “But you missed the point. So he had a code word – did all your colleagues know the code word? Did all his colleagues know the code word?”

“They did after I had one too many glasses of punch at his company picnic.” CJ wisecracked, but the humour was momentary as it began to sink in with her that the evening was shaping up to be more than a girls night in. It didn’t take Einstein to work out, that she was being faced with a cry for a help; a cry for help that was going to take some seriously delicate handling.

“You said there was lack of barbequing?” She said gently, feeling a little guilty at probing into the relationship even though she suspected that was precisely what Abbey wanted her to do, “We’re not talking hot dogs here are we?”

“You can call it what you like.” Abbey joked, but as she started to laugh again, CJ heard a sob catch in her throat, and seconds later there was no mistaking the tears that she wiped hastily from her eyes. It felt strange, seeing the stoic First Lady in such a vulnerable light and yet oddly, CJ felt she knew exactly what to do. She leant over, wrapped her arm around the older woman’s shoulder, almost as if she were a child, rather than the wife of the most powerful man in the country. “It’s ok.” She said softly, wanting to comfort her, but in turn bring her defenses crashing down.

“Its not fucking ok.” The glass in Abbey’s hand went flying, showering both women, and the room in liquor before smashing against the wall, “I can’t take it anymore. He’s fighting an election I don’t want him to fight, an election that could kill him.” She pulled herself away from CJ and began pacing the room, while CJ could only watch as months of apparent pain and suffering poured out of her, “As it is, it’s tiring him out. He comes home so late – if he comes home at all - and he’s good for nothing but a quick cuddle if I’m lucky. I need more.” She looked at CJ, tears trickling down her cheeks, “He promised me one term. One term and then I got my husband back so I could spend some time with him before I lose him for good and he’s thrown it all back in my face.”

There was nothing in what was being said that CJ didn’t already know, and yet, hearing it from Abbey, when she was clearly so distraught brought a new meaning to it, leaving her feeling as if she was hearing it for the first time; only as a woman, not as a Press Secretary, not as a member of the White House staff. On her feet, she reached out again, taking Abbey in her arms and gently stroking her hair, as she listened to her sobbing out the words that she knew would haunt her, haunt both of them in fact, for a long time to come.

“My husband wants the Presidency more than he wants me…”


	4. Chapter 4

It took a long time for Abbey to stop crying and calm down, but when it eventually happened she was instantly contrite, “I’m sorry.” She pulled away from CJ and moved to the sofa, curling up on it, looking tired and drained.

“Don’t apologise.” CJ replied gently, heading to the drinks trolley to replace the drink that Abbey had thrown, knowing that the other woman would need it, “You obviously needed to get it off of your chest.”

Abbey smiled weakly, “Yeah, I did, but I shouldn’t have done it quite like that. Look at the state of you.”

CJ glanced down at her outfit, so pristine when she’d arrived at work that morning, now showing the war wounds of her evening with Abbey. The shoulders of her white blouse were smeared with mascara and wet with tears, while the rest of her outfit was splattered with alcohol from the earlier low flying glass. All the same though, she was still in a better state than Abbey. She shrugged, smiling reassuringly, “It doesn’t matter. Although,” she handed Abbey her drink and then busied herself picking up the broken glass, “I think the French President might be slightly pissed that you smashed one of the antique crystal glasses he gave you at the G8 summit last year.”

“How do you remember that stuff?” Abbey asked curiously, “You know who gave us what, and when.”

“It’s my job.” She replied, as she put the broken glass on the top of the drinks cabinet, before returning to the sofa to sit beside her. “People like to know that stuff. You know freaky people with no lives.” She paused, realizing that they were moving away from the point in hand, “How are you feeling now?”

“Stupid.” Abbey admitted, biting her bottom lip, “My husband’s leading the free world, and I’m acting like a spoilt child because I’m not getting any action in the sack.” She laughed awkwardly as if poking fun at herself, and trying to lighten the moment, but CJ knew it went far deeper than ‘sack action’ and she said so.

In response, Abbey sighed, “I know, but I’m putting you in an awkward position. You serve my husband, you don’t serve me.”

CJ reached out and put her arm back around Abbey’s shoulder, “I wasn’t aware there was a difference…”

X X X

“I want to speak to the First Lady before I tell him.”

CJ knew it wasn’t the best time to be arguing with Leo, but it was something she felt particularly strongly about. If she was going to speak to the President, if she was going to confess all to him – and she knew she had to – she wanted to warn Abbey first, rather than allowing it all to blow up in her face with no warning.

That said, she wasn’t expecting an easy fight on the subject, and Leo wasn’t about to give her one.

“Absolutely not. It’s inappropriate.”

The whole bloody thing was inappropriate, CJ knew that but it didn’t change the way she felt. She had a responsibility to Abbey, to make it as easy on her as she possibly could – not that that was saying much. The argument didn’t get her any further with Leo either.

He stared at her coldly, but once again incredulous too, “You have a responsibility to Abbey? What about the responsibility you have to this administration, to the President, to the country? Did you think about that when you were doing this?” He threw the photographs across the room, scattering them like confetti, “You may as well have taken her on the Oval office desk for all the respect you’ve shown this Presidency.”

CJ got numbly to her feet, and began gathering the photos up again, feeling sick to her stomach as she stared at the images. She didn’t understand how something that had felt so tender and loving in reality could end up looking near damn pornographic on paper. She swallowed hard, and turned to Leo, blinking back tears,

“Please Sir. I know I have no right to request favours of you. But I need to speak to her. Let me make that call, and then I’ll do anything you ask.” Her desperation must have been clear, because after a long silence he slowly nodded.

Clutching the photos to her chest, she turned to leave, desperate to get back to the privacy of her office so she could get herself together before she made the hardest phone call of her life. She’d barely taken a step however, when Leo spoke,

“Don’t push your luck CJ. You make the call here, and before you ask,” he added, “no, I’m not leaving.”

Too tired to fight any longer she moved back to his desk and picked up his phone, dialing the number almost without thinking; she didn’t need to think, she’d dialed it often enough over the past six weeks.

It rang, but not for long, certainly not long enough for CJ who would have been happier if it had never been answered. Anything to avoid destroying the person she cared about more than anyone else in the world.

No such luck.

“Claud?”

There was no mistaking the joy in Abbey’s voice. It was always like that, whenever CJ called her she was always sounded delighted to hear from her, and CJ herself loved it; it always made her feel so special; so wanted.

It was just a shame that it wasn’t going to last…

X X X

Abbey knew she’d never forget the phone call. One minute she was in her hotel room on the West Coast, dressing for a luncheon being held in her honour, and the next her entire world came crashing down.

CJ hadn’t even had to say very much. Just two words actually.

Mrs. Bartlet.

It wasn’t what she’d come to expect. Even Abbey had become formal where she and CJ were concerned.

Sweetheart, the occasional ‘darling’, but mainly just Abs.

And yes, she could have put the Mrs Bartlet down to CJ being in company, but she knew quickly from a telltale sign, a tone in her voice, that that wasn’t the case. She stared at her reflection in the dressing table mirror, very aware that she’d aged 20 years in 20 seconds, and forced herself to ask ‘the question’.

“He knows?”

There was silence, and then CJ answered in the negative. It was of little comfort. It wasn’t that she was wrong, she was just asking the wrong question,

“But someone does?”

There was a long silence, and then CJ confirmed it,

“There are photos. I had to tell Leo. I’m sorry.”

There was no part of her response which didn’t affect Abbey one way, or another. The abject horror of hearing the word ‘photos’, the terror of knowing full well that Leo would tell Jed, and then an all consuming concern at how broken CJ sounded as she apologized. She couldn’t help it; no matter how worried she was about herself, and her marriage, her concern for CJ won out overall.

“It’s ok.” She said gently, getting to her feet and hastily beginning to pack as she talked, “We’ll sort it out. I’m coming straight home.” She meant it – screw the luncheon, the Guild of Female Screenwriters were going to have to accept that she had more important things to be doing than being fawned all over by them, “Hang on in there. I’ll be home soon, and we’ll deal with this together.”

“Ok Abs.” CJ replied softly, “I’ll see you soon.”

X X X

“Abs?” Leo asked, his eyes raised, as CJ hung up the phone.

CJ shrugged, too drained from the phone call to want to get into another argument, “I’m sorry, it just came out.”

“It just came out?” Leo shook his head in disbelief, as if the full extent of what was happening had sunk in with her use of the other woman’s pet name, “CJ she’s the First Lady, you’re a member of the White House staff. How the hell did this happen?”

CJ sighed, glancing down at the photos again, “Sir, I don’t think you want to know…”

X X X


	5. Chapter 5

“Does the President know how you feel?”

It was several hours later, a dozen more martinis had been drunk, and both women were a long way from sober; sprawled on the large couch, a patchwork blanket thrown over them. Abbey had tried to steer CJ from further discussion about her marriage by telling her endless stories about the different pieces of fabric used in the blanket, which she’d made with her grandmother as a child, but CJ, perhaps in part due to her Press Secretary background, but also because of the heartbreaking sadness that she now recognized in Abbey’s eyes, just couldn’t let it go.

Abbey sighed, “He knows I was pissed at him. He probably suspects I still am but thinks its better not to talk about it. I don’t think he realizes how deep it goes though,” she stared down into her drink, trying to shield her eyes, and her tears from CJ, “I don’t think he realizes how scared I am of him dying.”

CJ couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She, like all of the President’s closest aides had been delighted when he’d agreed to stand for a second term, and even after the hearings and censure following the revelations about his health, campaigning for reelection still seemed worthwhile, a real cause for celebration. Not for one minute had she, or indeed any of them, stopped to consider what Abbey was going through.

“You should talk to him.” She said gently, taking Abbey’s hand and squeezing it supportively.

Abbey shook her head, “And risk stressing him out even more? I can’t CJ. It’s not good for health, and he’s got more important things to think about; Super Tuesday isn’t that far away.”

“Screw Super Tuesday.” CJ blurted out, surprising herself, not least because Super Tuesday was considered to be the most crucial day in the entirety of the primaries, and she and the others had been planning their schedule and strategy for months, “What about you? What about what you want?”

Abbey downed her drink in one, the sadness in her eyes becoming ever more intense, causing CJ to feel more melancholy than she ever thought was possible, “I’m the First Lady CJ, my life isn’t about what I want. Not anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” CJ shuffled along the sofa, wrapping her arms tightly around Abbey, who she could tell on the verge of tears again, “Why should it be that way? Why shouldn’t you get to ‘barbeque’ if you want to? Why should you play fucking second fiddle to the consti-bloody-tution?”

A sad smile traced Abbey’s lips, “Because my husband’s the President of the United States of America, and no one else is interested.”

And that was it. That was the moment; the one that no one could have predicted, that had the potential, in all too real terms, to change the world.

The moment when CJ Cregg opened her mouth and whispered,

“I wouldn’t say that.”

X X X

“Is there any chance of you rejoining the planet and joining me in a trip to the residence?” Leo asked, breaking into CJ’s thoughts, just before she got to the ‘interesting’ part. The truth was that she had no wish to go and face the President, but a promise was a promise, and that was what she’d told Leo she’d do.

Unsteadily she got to her feet, feeling an ever increasing urge to vomit all down her blue Donna Karen suit, and followed Leo in the direction of the door.

“What am I going to say to him?” She asked, in a voice so tiny she barely recognized it as her own.

Leo shrugged, “Not my problem, although,” he added as an after thought, “I’d steer clear of the jackal story; really CJ, its not justification enough.”

He left her with that thought as they walked to the residence in silence, but she was aware of his eyes on her the whole time; staring at her numbly like she was a complete stranger to him. She understood why; she’d felt like a complete stranger to herself since that fateful night six weeks before. It still hurt though, having him look at her like that. After all, she was the same person underneath, no matter what she’d done.

When they had reached their destination and bypassed security Leo led her, quite ironically and unknowingly, to the same drawing room where she and Abbey had spent that first evening. As she entered she felt a warm glow surround her, momentarily lost in the memories, but it was quickly extinguished when Leo finally spoke,

“You wait here. I’ll ask him to come along and speak with you.”

She balked visibly, but if Leo noticed her didn’t say, and left before she could argue. She waited until she was sure he was gone and then moved to the drinks cabinet to pour a large measure of whisky.

Dutch courage.

She was going to need it.

X X X

“What did you say?” The skepticism in Abbey’s eyes was hard to miss, ditto the obvious uncertainly, although there was no way in the world she could have not heard what CJ had said.

“I said,” CJ replied, putting her glass on the floor, as the alcohol she’d drunk did an impressive job of squelching any misgivings she might have had, “that I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t say that no one would be interested in you. You’re an incredibly beautiful woman.”

“Oh shut up!” Abbey waved the compliment away, even blushing a little, “You’re just tapping into my press, and you can’t believe everything you read in the papers.”

“I know that, but, more to the point,” Almost without thinking, CJ reached across and brushed the hair out of Abbey’s eyes, “I believe what’s in front of me. I think you’re beautiful.”

At the compliment Abbey looked away coyly, seeming more like a shy teenage girl than the most photographed women in the world, but when she lifted her eyes, they had a devil like glint in them, “Why Claudia-Jean, are you offering to barbeque with little ol’ me?”

CJ faltered slightly, unsure of what was happening, not sure whether Abbey was serious, or whether the whole thing was a joke that was about to get seriously out of hand, and completely lost as to how she felt about it either way, “Well,” she said hesitantly, trying to buy herself time, “that depends, do you have relish?”

There was a split second pause, and then Abbey answered her.

With a kiss.

As kisses went, it didn’t rank high in the passion stakes, not in the typical sense. In fact, it was little more than one set of lips brushing against another for mere seconds, and yet…

“Wow.”

Abbey smiled, the naughty glint still very much present, “So, do I have relish or what?!”

And then the passion came. It happened so instantaneously that later neither of them would no who kissed who, just that it happened as their lips crashed against each other, and their tongues took no time at all in starting to explore. And if either one of them had doubts or concerns, the weren’t expressing them. They were otherwise engaged.

X X X

“Claudia Jean?”

He was stood in the doorway, looking at her, clearly concerned,

“Are you alright? The press corp haven’t been boobytrapping the podium again have they?”

She placed her empty glass down on the drinks cabinet, noticing that her hand was shaking as she did so, and then shook her head, “No Sir.”

“Then what is it?” He moved to her side, “Leo’s acting like Margaret passed on, and you haven’t looked this depressed since I told you I wanted you to refer to Libya as Al Jumahiriyah al Arabiyah al Libiyah ash Shabiyah al Ishtirakiyah al Uzma in all future press briefings. What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath, tried to speak, but every time she did, she imagined what his reaction would be and that was enough to leave her struck dumb. She thought of the times she’d disappointed him in the past, the times that would never compare to this. And the times he’d talked to her in an almost fatherly fashion, the times he’d told her she was part of his family. It had been such an honour and now she’d thrown it all back in his face.

Eventually, after forcing herself to look at him, she managed to speak, even if only briefly,

“We need to talk Sir.”

He nodded, “Well I didn’t come here to dance the foxtrot.” He put his hand on her shoulder, “Come on, come and sit down.” And with that he tried to guide her in the direction of the sofa.

Her and Abbey’s sofa.

Suddenly, she was right back there.

Abbey’s hands tearing instantly at the buttons on her blouse, her own raking through Abbey’s hair as she slipped her knee between her legs.

She clasped her hand to her mouth as she felt bile fighting its way up her throat,

“I can’t do it Sir. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

And with that, she turned on heel and ran from the room.

X X X


	6. Chapter 6

Jed Barlet was not unused to displays of emotion from women that verged on over reactions. He’d lived in a house with three teenage girls, and Abbey had had her moments in her younger days too. What he wasn’t so used to was his Press Secretary acting like a premenstrual maniac. CJ was cool and calm under pressure, if not a little out there and kooky the rest of the time, and that was exactly how he liked her.

He wasn’t so keen on the CJ that was currently making herself known to him. The way she was acting - the shaking and histrionics, before disappearing completely – was incredibly unsettling, especially taking into account the way his Chief of Staff was behaving. Leo wasn’t known for over dramatizing things.

He stood in the centre of the drawing room, one of his favourites in the residence as it happened, wondering if he should go after her. Then he though better of it. There might be tears, and tears from CJ would be a step too far. Better to just wait for her to return.

He wandered around the room, noticed the drinks cabinet and contemplated pouring himself a drink, only deciding against it for fear that they were in the middle of national emergency and that he might have to do something about it when CJ pulled herself together enough to tell him what that something was.

It was by the drinks trolley that he noticed the envelope. Manila, A4, CJ’s name on the front in bold type. He supposed he shouldn’t be so nosy as to look inside, but he was starting to get curious, if not downright concerned as to what was happening, and besides which, he was the President, the main man, and this was The White House. Surely he could look at anything, no matter who the addressee. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands and then, with a covert glance at the door, he opened it and pulled out the contents.

It took him a few seconds to realize what he was looking at, and when he did he felt himself get a little hot under the collar. He’d seen something like it in a film once, and he didn’t know if he was supposed to but he’d really rather liked it. Not that the whole thing was making any sense – why would someone send a picture like that to his Press Secretary? Sam or Josh maybe. Toby at a push, but not CJ.

He flicked to the next photo in the pile, and then it became clear. The pieces fell in to place, or as much as the pieces were ever going to. He knew then why CJ was acting so oddly, and indeed why she might have the photos, but not what had got them to that point in the first place.

He thought again about having a drink. Lord knows, he needed one, but there was something else he needed more. Answers. And no amount of liquor was going to give him those. They’d have to come from her, and he was about to give the Press Secretary the grilling of her life.

‘No Comment’ was not going to be an option. Not this time.

He flew out of the room, narrowly avoiding crashing into his Secret Service agents who, after he’d barked the question at them, pointed him in the direction that CJ had gone. Without having the first idea what he was going to say to her, he stormed down the corridor and barged into the cloakroom where she was sat, huddled in one corner of the room by the toilet bowl with her head in her hands.

“You want to tell me what all this is about now?” He said, holding up the photos, amazing himself with how calm he sounded. He didn’t feel calm. He felt like he was about to have a coronary,

CJ looked up at him through red and teary eyes. She looked none too healthy herself, even less so when she saw the photos in his hand. In fact, for one minute he thought she was going to throw up, right there in front of him, but to her credit – the one small amount of credit he was going to give her at that moment – she didn’t.

“Mr President, I… I’m sorry…”

He went to tell her that she didn’t know what sorry was, but he didn’t get the chance before she continued, her words coming out thick and fast suddenly, almost as if she needed to purge herself of them,

“You were away… Abbey was lonely and drunk so she called me… I came over here and we talked and there were Martinis and then I was drunk too… and then, you know, it was a thing… like The Jackal… it just happened… I didn’t mean it to, it was a mistake and I’m sorry… it was a drunken mistake.” She lowered her head again, bursting into tears.

Part of him knew that her words should be a comfort to him. Mistakes got made, especially where drink was involved. It wasn’t like he was perfect. There had been an incident, a night, years back involving a Congresswoman from Denver and a bottle of 72 year old Havana Rum which haunted him to that day, and which Abbey would have castrated him for if she’d ever found out. But that wasn’t the point. This wasn’t on the same chart. This was his wife and another woman, and not just any other woman, but his wife and one of his inner circle, a woman he thought of almost as a daughter. And besides which…

“You came over here?” He asked her, flipping through the photos again as he did so, “That’s what you said yes? You came to the residence?”

CJ nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks – he could almost have felt sorry for her, except for the fact that she was playing right into his hands.

“This isn’t here.” He said numbly, selecting a picture of her cuddled up to his gorgeous Abbey, her head resting on her shoulder, the fingers on one hand entwined with hers, while those on the other hand slipped inside his wife’s shirt, obviously caressing her stomach,

“This is the hammock on the portico at the New Hampshire house.” He continued as he tossed the photo at her so she could see for herself, “For the love of God Claudia Jean, how many times have you slept with my wife?”

XXX


	7. Chapter 7

**The morning after the night before**

It was still dark when CJ was woken the next morning by the sensation of a hand gently caressing her back as she lay sprawled across the bed, her head buried in the pillow. She opened her eyes, slowly, not entirely sure what she'd see, not entirely unconvinced that the whole of the night before hadn't been some kind of dream.

She soon realised however, that it hadn't been. The combination of having woken in the President's bedroom and having Abbey perched on the edge of the bed beside her told her that.

She struggled to sit up, pulling the sheets up and around her, to cover her nakedness, feeling at a slight disadvantage since Abbey was already dressed in a smart red suit, her hair swept into an elegant chignon, “Hey,” she murmured, running her fingers through her hair, trying to neaten it, like that would make a difference, “What time is it?”

“A little after 4.” Abbey replied, looking apologetic, “Sorry, but I'm getting the red-eye up to New York and I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.”

CJ laughed, regretting it as she did so, wincing as an alcohol induced headache stabbed away in her brain, “Abbey, only you would refer to Air Force Two as 'the red-eye'. You're spoilt.”

Abbey smiled, moving her hand from CJ's back to her neck, caressing it gently, “I am after last night. That was quite something.”

There was no need to question what she was talking about; alcohol induced or not, CJ remembered the night before all too well, and it had been quite something. That said, she wasn't really sure how to respond. She'd enjoyed the experience herself, but whether because she was hungover or still half drunk, or simply because it was just too huge to comprehend, she didn't have the first idea how she felt about it.

“I liked it too.” She said, opting for honesty and then instantly kicking herself at how wishy washy her response sounded. She tried to think of a way to make it better, and failing decided it would be better to change the subject altogether, “You said New York. You're giving a speech, that's right isn't it?” It felt good going for 'business as usual', it came more naturally to her, “Zoe's going with you. Its just for the day.”

Abbey nodded, “Yes, that's right. I'll be back this evening. Jed too.”

There was an awkward silence, as they realised in the same instant that it might have been better for both of them if the President had never been mentioned, but knowing it was too late to take the words back.

For CJ though, it was also helpful. She saw it as a clear message. Jed will be back. In other words, you'll be surplus to requirements. If it stung in any way the alcohol took the pain away and the truth was, she'd expected it. She smiled genially, “Have a good trip.”

“We could talk tomorrow.” Abbey blurted out, but CJ shook her head. She didn't need letting down gently. She was a big girl; she'd known from the start that a one night stand with the First Lady wasn't going to lead to a marriage proposal. It wasn't like she wanted one. The whole thing was no huge deal, it was just a thing. A thing that would be forgotten.

How could it possibly be anything else?

X X X

“This is all very interesting,” Jed said, leaning against the wall of the cloakroom, as CJ remained huddled on the floor, “but I'm not so sure I need the history lesson. I remember the day in question well enough. My wife jumped my old and aching bones the minute I walked in through the front door. I thought it was because I was hot.” he continued, looking more than a little put out, “I realise now she was probably just reaffirming her heterosexuality or whatever you lesbians call it.”

“Sir,” CJ said hesitantly, concerned by how outwardly calm he seemed and aware the situation could change at any moment, “I don't think that's what she was doing.”

“Do I care what you think?” He responded curtly, “Although, actually if you're offering up opinions, do you think they changed the sheets in between? I mean this is The White House, they'd have changed the sheets right?”

There was a long awkward silence as CJ wondered how much she should share, how much her boss would be able to take. Eventually she realised that since he'd made it this far, she didn't see how much more damage she could do.

“I changed the sheets. After Abbey left.”

He snorted, “Are you expecting me to thank you?”

She said nothing, just shaking her head on the off chance that it wasn't a rhetorical question and he expected an answer.

“Right,” he said, once she'd nodded, ploughing on once more, “I have absolutely no interest at all in the awkward silences between you and she. I'm liking the idea of awkward silences more and more to be honest, but awkward silences didn't result in,” he nodded in the direction of 'the' photo, the major hot potato between them that sat discarded in her lap, “that, did they CJ?”

X X X

**4 Weeks Earlier**

It was one of 'those' days. The Press Corp. were being badly behaved to the point of being riotous, Zoe and Charlie had been caught making out by the JFK memorial at Arlington (CJ was choosing not to ask why), there was a Welsh Male Voice Choir in the lobby and the President had a photo opportunity with a Galapagos Island tortoise at 14.45.

And then when in a five minute break, she thought she might just be able to sneak away the briefest of moments of peace and tranquillity in her office, what should she discover there but the First Lady. Feeding Gail.

“Hey.”

“Don't hey me,” Abbey glared at her fiercely, putting the fear of god in her as she found herself wondering what she'd done. As far as she was concerned she'd been the paragon of virtue since their little liaison; changing the bed linen, keeping her distance, not to mention the tiny little matter of keeping it all to herself. As far as she was concerned she hadn't put a foot wrong.

And as it happened, Abbey agreed, “Don't hey me,” she repeated, “when you've left this poor defenceless creature to starve.” She smiled, indicating Gail who was happily munching her way through the half pot of fish food she'd dumped in the bowl.

CJ rolled her eyes, “Gail would eat your finger if I stuck it in with her. She's a gannet. She'd eat anything.”

Abbey's smile widened into a grin, “I could say the same about you.”

The innuendo was hard to miss, and CJ found herself blushing a particularly vivid shade of puce as the memories of their night together came flooding back. She looked at Abbey curiously, “Are we talking about this?”

Abbey shrugged, “I 'wanted' to talk about it two weeks ago. Now I 'need' to talk about this. Is that OK with you?”

CJ nodded, somewhat lost for words. She'd thought a lot over the last couple of weeks about what had happened, and chalked it down to experience, one hell of an experience, but experience all the same. She'd never in a million years thought that she'd find herself having this particular conversation, especially not considering the way things had been left. Which, as she thought about it, made her question Abbey's words;

“You wanted to talk about it.”

“I said I did.” Abbey moved over and shut the door, turning the lock, obviously determined there would be no interruptions, “You were the one who said no.”

“With respect,” CJ sat down at her desk, feeling dizzy at the turn the conversation was taking, “you were the one who had just brought your husband into the equation. You said,”

“Jed was coming home.” Abbey lowered herself into the seat opposite as she finished CJ's sentence, “You thought that was a sign? It was fact Claud. He was coming home. He got back to the residence 5 minutes after I did. I was telling you I wanted to talk then but I couldn't.”

Gail was still eating, swimming around, munching away, and CJ envied her. Oh, to have a life that simple. Not to be totally scared of saying the wrong thing. She looked up at Abbey, completely po-faced, “What makes you think you can call me Claud?”

Abbey's turn to blush. To stare shyly into Gail's bowl.

“Because no one else does.”

She wasn't about to admit it, but CJ liked the answer. She also liked how girlish and coy Abbey was acting. It brought back a lot of memories. Good memories.

“And what do I get to call you?”

Abbey looked up, smiled, “You can call me Abs.”

Again it was cute, but CJ was nobodys fool. She looked at Abbey skeptically, “Does your husband call you Abs?”

She shook her head.

“Good.” CJ took a deep breath, and braced herself. This was the big one, the life changing bit, “So, what would you have said, if I'd agreed to talk?”

There was a very pregnant pause, then Abbey reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it like she'd never let go.

“I'd have told you that one night would never be enough.”

X X X


	8. Chapter 8

The Manchester trip had been Abbey's idea, unveiled shortly after the revelation that she wasn't willing to let go. CJ had been sceptical at first, not because she thought it was a bad idea in principle - she knew they needed some time away from prying eyes to work out what was going on between them - but because it came slap bang in the middle of the primaries, when she was loaded down with work, and knew any suggestion of taking a break would be met with protests from the rest of the staff.

That said, Abbey was determined to get her own way on the subject, even if it meant resorting to emotional blackmail, and a particularly feisty, "Whatever happened to 'Screw Super Tuesday' Claudia-Jean?" and eventually CJ relented, ignoring the resultant complaints from the others, and organised a couple of days off.

They travelled there separately, not wanting suspicions to be aroused, and questions to be asked, and during the journey CJ realised just how much she was looking forward to spending time alone with Abbey. With her lover. It felt strange to think it, but that didn't stop her liking it.

It was only when she pulled up at the farm, and saw the Secret Service Agents guarding the perimeter, that it occurred to her that they weren't actually going to be alone at all.

When she raised the subject however, Abbey was completely unrepentant, not to mention unconcerned,

"It's not an issue." she said calmly, as she carried CJ's overnight bag into the house, "As I constantly tell my youngest daughter, our Secret Service details are there in case someone else causes trouble, they're not there to stop us getting into it." She paused, and turned to CJ, a pained expression on her face, "This trip is meant to be pleasurable. Please, stop worrying."

It was a nice sentiment, but as CJ caught sight of a wedding photo hanging on the hall wall over Abbey's shoulder, she couldn't help but question how the other woman could act so calmly,

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Abbey turned, following her gaze to the photograph, the loved up young couple caught up in a moment that belonged to only them, and then, with a wry smile shook her head,

"My husband has a mistress of his own." She let the statement hang in the air for a moment or two, just long enough for her words to sink in for CJ and for her to start questioning them, and then continued, "I've played second fiddle to his political career long enough. I've done my dutiful wife bit. And anyway, this isn't about him. This is about me," She placed the bag on the ground, and moved forward, taking CJ in her arms, "and you. Us." She dipped her head, planting a row of kisses on CJ's neck with such precision that it almost appeared that she'd planned it, "So, please Claud, forget him. Concentrate on me."

XXX

"I've heard enough." Jed said brusquely, moving to the door, opening it and then gesturing to Leo, who was stood in the corridor with the Secret Service Agents looking worried, to come over, "Right," he said to his Chief of Staff, sounding every inch the Commander in Chief, and not at all like a man who had just discovered his wife had betrayed him in the worst way possible, "Senior Staff meeting. In The Oval. 10 minutes." He glanced round at CJ who was still sat on the floor, "You too."

"Me?" She looked at him questioningly, "In The Oval?" She'd never expected to get close to the hallowed room again, let alone in a Senior Staff meeting.

He nodded, "Yes, The Oval. Is that alright with you? I mean we can take it into the Situation Room if you like, but that might result in my asking the Joint Chiefs to bomb you in retribution and I don't think you want that. I don't think any of us want that."

"But Sir," she said shakily, still not entirely sure she was hearing him right, not believing he could possibly still want her around. He didn't however give her chance to argue any further before he cut her dead,

"I said 10 minutes. You're considered Senior Staff until such a time that I tell you otherwise. Do I make myself clear?"

She nodded slowly, "Crystal, Sir."

Jed turned to his attention to Leo, "Thank you Leo. I'll see you over there." And then he was gone without another word, leaving a confused Chief of Staff and Press Secretary in his wake.

XXX

He went, almost without thinking, to his bedroom. The room he'd shared for nigh on four years with Abbey. A room where he'd held her, kissed her, made love to her. A room where he'd lain awake and watched her sleep.

The same room where she'd betrayed him.

It didn't bear thinking about.

He sat down on his own side of the bed, doing his best to block out the mental images he had of his wife's lover lying there. From where he was sat he could see their wedding picture on his night stand. Abbey had made a beautiful bride. He'd felt like the luckiest man alive that day. As he reached for the photo, and took it in his hands, he found himself thinking about Elizabeth; of all their daughters she was the one who looked most like his wife at a young age.

Their daughters... how the Hell would he explain this to them? What would they make of it all?

Ellie would take it the worst, he suspected - she'd always considered Abbey to be perfect. Idolised her. This would devastate her. Elizabeth would be upset too, but at least she had Doug. He wasn't fond of the man, but he knew he would support Liz in her hour of need.

As for Zoe... well, she was the youngest, the most liberal. She'd been to one of those feminist pop concerts. She'd probably think it was quite cool. Might even have a chuckle over it with Charlie, until she realised what it was going to do to her parents marriage, and then she'd probably go to pieces too.

It wasn't going to be easy for any of them.

He looked down at the photo again, at Abbey, the woman he loved, the woman he'd thought he knew so well.

Then he smashed the frame against the night stand. Anything to avoid having to look at her anymore.

XXX

The flight home was unbearable for Abbey. She didn't know what was worse; knowing, in very general terms, what she was going back to, or not knowing what was happening back at The White House at that precise second. She sat staring numbly out of the window, playing her conversation with CJ back in her head. She still couldn't believe how broken her lover had sounded, and felt guilty as Hell that she was the cause. Then there was the issue of the photos. How could anyone have caught them? How could anyone have had the opportunity. They'd been careful. Or at least she thought they had. Yes, they'd maybe let their guard down a little at the farm, but the house was remote, and well guarded, no one should have been able to access it.

Unless one of their Secret Service Agents had double crossed them. It seemed unlikely. Guarding the First Lady was the most prestigious of details, only entrusted to Agents with exemplary service records, Agents who surely would have been above selling photos to the press for a quick buck.

Still, stranger things had happened. Like the fact they'd got it together in the first place.

Not that she regretted it, not for a moment. Even with everything that was happening there was still no way that she could say she wished it hadn't happened. OK, it clearly hadn't been the wisest move, but it wasn't like she planned it, neither of them had. It was just a case of circumstances bringing them together, and that hadn't been a bad thing.

It had been amazing. More than amazing. Until now it had been so utterly perfect, the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. She'd gone from feeling hurt and betrayed by Jed's actions, from feeling like she'd mattered to no one, least of all him, to being on top of the world.

And all because of Claud.

Because Claud made her feel special.

XXX

“You've done this before.”

They were lying in a clearing, in the woodland that bordered the farm. CJ was lying on the ground, her shirt undone, and Abbey leant over her, gently toying at one of her nipples with her tongue, as her hand grazed her thigh over the denim of her jeans. She didn't have the first idea where the Secret Service detail was and she didn't care, she was too lost in the sensations that the apparently expert Abbey was causing in her.

Abbey stopped her work for a moment, lifting her head and grinning as she nodded with a now familiar naughty glint in her eye. Part of CJ wanted to reach up and pull her head back down, by way of urging her to continue, but at the same time she was also surprised by the revelation, and in need of details enough for her curiosity to win out.

“When before?” she asked, sitting up, and holding her shirt closed, not bothering to do it up properly since she was hoping Abbey would return to her task once the conversation was over.

“At college.” Abbey replied, somewhat sheepishly, “I told you sororities were fun.”

“You slept with your sorority sisters?”

“Well not all of them.” Abbey giggled, “But there was one, before I met Jed. You know something?” she added, “After he was elected I worried that it might 'come out' so to speak and you'd be left dealing with it. I never expected that to happen quite like this.” She looked over at CJ, as if expecting a reaction and when one didn't come she became suddenly quite pensive, worrying if she'd said the wrong thing, “You're not upset with me are you? She didn't mean anything. Not like you.”

CJ smiled, “Abs,” she reached over, wrapping her arms around her reassuringly, “if I was going to be upset with you for anything, don't you think it would be because you have a husband. Do you really think I'd be bothered about some bubble headed prom queen from your past?”

Abbey snuggled up against her, resting her head on her shoulder, enjoying the closeness, “I'd be upset about a bubble headed prom queen in yours.”

“Well you don't have to worry about that.” CJ replied, gently tilting Abbey's head and moving in for a kiss, “There's never been anyone in my life who makes me feel like you do. I'm all yours Abs, and don't you forget it.”

XXX


	9. Chapter 9

“Do you think I’m like Hitler?” Josh asked, leaning against the doorframe of Sam’s office.

Sam looked up from the computer screen, clearly perplexed, “Like Hitler in that you ordered the genocide of large number of Jews, presumably including yourself?”

Josh shrugged, “Search me, but I swear Donna mumbled under her breath earlier that I was positively ‘Hitleresque’.”

“Is Hitleresque even a word?” Sam queried.

“This is Donna. Does it need to be?” Josh moved into the office, “What are you working on.”

“Just a thing.” Sam replied, hastily minimizing his game of ‘Solitaire’ before Josh could see it. Luckily he was saved by a sudden thud on the glass partition between his office and Toby’s, “It looks like I’m wanted.” He got to his feet and walked the short distance with Josh in tow, to find Toby sat at his desk looking puzzled.

“The President has ordered a Senior Staff meeting. Immediately.”

The three men exchanged concerned looks. This did not sound good.

Toby got to his feet, “Come on, we better tell CJ. In fact,” He looked over to CJ’s office, “Where the Hell is CJ?”

XXX

The answer of course, didn’t come, until they arrived outside The Oval office, where CJ was sat with Leo. They picked up on the frosty atmosphere immediately, and even if they hadn’t, the state that CJ was in; crumpled suit, and red blotchy eyes would have been obvious enough.

“What’s going on?” Toby asked, “CJ? Leo?” He glanced over to Charlie’s desk, where the President’s Personal Aide was sat, obviously aware of the atmosphere too, “Charlie?”

It was CJ that eventually answered, stammering slightly as she did so, “Guys, there’s something I have to tell you,” but before she could get any further the door to The Oval Office opened and The President cut her dead,

“Come on in gentleman. CJ.” He gave her the curtest of glances before turning to Charlie, “You too.”

He let them all get seated before he spoke again, his voice firm, completely in control.

“In the beginning, there was one man, and one woman. The man was called Adam – Ha-Adam, literally, ‘the man’, and the woman was called Eve – the mother of all living. Now, you’re probably wondering why I called you in here for a religious education lesson. You’d think I’d be more concerned with running the country, but Claudia-Jean knows,” he turned to CJ, “don’t you Claudia-Jean?”

Trying to ignore the curious glances of the colleagues that surrounded her, CJ focused her gaze firmly on her boss, her Commander in Chief, “Yes Sir,’ she replied shakily, “I do. I assume,” she took a deep breath, “that this is a lecture on forbidden fruit.”

Jed nodded, “Correct, and if I felt you deserved it I’d give you a brownie point for that.” He diverted his attentions from her to the others again, “Now that first woman got the first man in to all kind of trouble. She got him banished from the Garden of Eden, all because she couldn’t resist the forbidden fruit, and ever since women have been driving men to the brink because they don’t know how to behave. And now my First Lady has gone and done the same to me. She couldn’t resist the fruit.”

Silence greeted his story, as those in the dark tried to put the pieces together, and the silence was only broken when CJ, finding it completely and utterly impossible to cope with, spoke,

“What he’s trying to tell you is that the First Lady has been having an affair. With me.”

The news was greeted by a further silence, as each person in the room tried to come to terms with it. CJ got to her feet, and walked to the very edge of the room, not wanting to see the faces of her friends, not feeling able to cope with their horror and disgust.

“I do hope you’re not planning on leaving us Claudia-Jean.” Jed said sharply, “We’re going to need you. You see gentlemen we have something of a situation here. The good men of the press have some photographs of this little liaison.”

“Photographs?” It was Sam that spoke, unable to help himself as he allowed his brain to wonder, for the briefest of moments, what exactly those photographs might look like, thinking as a man, rather than as a White House staffer. It was only when he saw the disapproving looks that he received from around the room that he corrected his mind and adopted a more serious tone, “What kind of photographs exactly? And which men of the press?”

Not wanting the President to start verbally elaborating on the nature of the photographs, CJ moved across the room and pressed the envelope into Sam’s hands, before returning to her sanctuary, not wanting to have to see the pictures again herself.

“I don’t know who has them.” She said shakily, “I just know they wound up on my desk tonight.”

Sam went through the pile of photographs, his eyes widening with every shot he looked at, “Well we have to know CJ. You need to get out there, talk to the Corp. Call in some favours. We have to know who it is we’re dealing with. These are explosive.”

Josh reached his hand out in Sam’s direction, “Can I see?” He asked, earning himself a cold look from Jed.

“If you boys are getting off on this, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

XXX

By the time Abbey arrived back at residence her nerves were completely shot. She dashed in through the doors, waiting for Jed to appear, and dreading his response when he did. She just didn’t know what to expect; would he be angry? Broken? Would he shout, or just refuse to talk to her at all? She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

In any event though, he didn’t appear, and when a steward stepped forward to greet her, she found out why.

“The President would like you to go to The Oval Office Ma’am.”

The Oval Office? She’d not expected that. China flung at her head in the kitchen maybe, a tearful confrontation in the bedroom, but not the bloody Oval Office.

It was only as she crossed the lawn, and headed towards the outside door to his office, that his choice of location began to make sense.

She paused briefly in the shadows, listening to the conversation from within.

Josh Lyman;

“Well clearly we’re going to need some kind of poll on how this is going to play, but I have no idea how you can poll something like this.

Then Jed, “Speak to Joey Lucas. She did some good work on the MS thing. I’m sure she’ll come up with something.” She wondered for a split second if they could possibly be talking about something else, an issue she wasn’t aware of; hoping among all hopes that her husband wasn’t considering polling over the state of their marriage.

And then Sam Seaborn spoke and confirmed it for her, “Of course it might not come out at all.”

Jed laughed sardonically, “Unfortunate choice of words there and unlikely too, as I think you know.”

Incredulous that her husband was joking about her affair, she took a deep breath, then opened the door to the room and stepped inside hesitantly, “Honey?”

“Abigail.” Jed turned to look at her, “Welcome home.” He paused, his brow furrowed in mock puzzlement, “You were talking to me right, because you know, normally I’d assume that, but well, these are special times, and Claudia-Jean is in the room.”

Her heart sank. She wasn’t expecting it to be pleasant but this was a thousand times worse than she’d thought. Trying to ignore the bemused gazes of the her husband’s staff, and not being able to bring herself to look in CJ’s direction at all, she moved to his side,

“Jed,” she reached for his hand but wasn’t at all surprised when he snatched it away, “can we talk in private? Please?”

He shook his head, “No darling I don’t think we can. My staff needs to be in on this, we’re trying to win an election in case you’d forgotten.”

“For crying out loud!” The exclamation came from CJ, putting her contrition to one side as she found herself overwhelmed with disgust by the scene playing out in front of her, and concerned for the woman she’d realized that she was fast falling in love with, “You asked me how this happened Leo.” She continued, plowing on before anyone could silence her, “And this is your answer. This is how it happened, and why. It happened because Abs needed someone to treat her like a wife and not a political commodity.”

There was a deathly silence, no one in the room knowing how to react to the outburst, or even if they should. All eyes were on the President, full of morbid curiosity as to what his reaction would be.

When it came, it was surprising measured and low key, as he turned to his wife, speaking calmly, “Is that how you think I treat you Abigail? As a commodity?”

Abbey didn’t reply, instead just stood there, fighting back tears, answering the question without saying a word.

Jed shook his head sadly, “Well you’re sure as Hell not going to be much of a commodity after this.” He turned to Leo, “Could we clear the room please? We’ll reconvene in an hour.”

XXX


	10. Chapter 10

As they stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them, CJ turned to face her colleagues, wanting to say to them all the things she hadn't been able to before, things she felt it would have been inappropriate to say to say in front of the President.

That said, when she opened her mouth to speak, she didn't have the first idea where to begin, “Guys,” she addressed her words to Toby in particular, because she'd always felt closer to him than the others, not least because he'd brought her on board in the first place, “I don't know what to say.”

Toby looked at her coldly, “Then don't say anything CJ, don't say anything at all. Nothing you say can correct this.” He finished, before walking away without another word.

She knew it was nothing she didn't deserve, but that didn't stop it hurting, not least because she knew Toby wasn't the only friend she was going to lose before the night was through.

“He'll come round,” Sam said, breaking into her thoughts. She was grateful for his kindness, which she suspected was borne of his own private life having got him into trouble in the past, but at the same time she suspected that what he was saying wasn't true. “You should probably have these back.” he said, handing the envelope of photos back to her, “If you don't I might not be able to contain myself.” He added, giving her a wry smile.

She smiled too then, she knew she shouldn't, not with Leo watching but she appreciated the fact that Sam was managing to speak to her at all, let alone joke with her, “How did I know you were going to say that?”

He shrugged, “Guess I'm just predictable...”

“CJ,” Leo broke in, “can I talk you in private for a second?”

She nodded, and after saying goodbye to both Sam and Josh followed him into his office.

Considering that the atmosphere between them had been so bad, she was expecting another lecture, but to her surprise, it didn't come. Instead she was offered at seat, and then as Leo sat down she realised he was no longer looking at her with contempt, but with concern.

“Sir?” she asked shakily, worried about what was coming next. Right to be worried as it turned out.

“You said this was like 'The Jackal'.” Leo said, his tone almost fatherly, “But I heard that little speech in there. I saw the look in your eyes when Abbey walked into the room. I don't know exactly what's going on between you and the First Lady CJ, but I think its safe to say its definitely not The Jackal.”

X X X

“Talk to me.” Abbey said softly, watching Jed as he stared at the door CJ had just walked through, “Yell at me Jed. Throw the Bill of Rights at me. Please, just say something.”

He said nothing, just carried on staring at the door, and then....

“I cheated on you once. With a Republican called Darcy. She let me do things you never have. But then there's probably a reason for that what with you being a lesbian and all.”

She knew she had no right to be upset, not after the way she'd been carrying on, but yet she could help it; it did hurt.

“Firstly, I'm not a lesbian. Secondly, when the hell did that happen?”

Jed moved over to the drinks cabinet, took out a bottle of Scotch and poured himself a large measure, “Firstly, I've seen the photos, there's no point in denying it. Secondly, 1992.”

Abbey walked over to him, taking the bottle from him and pouring a drink of her own, “This could get dull, but firstly, that doesn't make me a lesbian, and secondly, why have you not told me before?”

He lowered himself down onto the couch, snorting as he did so, “Abigail, your head was between her legs, you were pleasuring her with your tongue, if that doesn't make you a lesbian I don't know what does.” He eyed her contemptuously, “And if that doesn't make you rescind your second question then I don't know what will.”  
Abbey's response came in the form of the glass in her hand falling to the floor, her horror at his words clear. Since the phone call from CJ she'd been questioning in her mind what the photos would be like, but not once had it crossed her mind that they would be so graphic.

“Jed,” she moved to the sofa and sat down beside him, “I had no idea. I'm sorry.”

“Being sorry isn't enough.” He got to his feet, unable to bear having her so close to him, and went to sit behind his desk; like he could stop his life from spiralling out of control as long as he carried on being Commander in Chief and didn't dwell too much on being Mr Abbey Bartlet, “In answer to your question, which, by the way, I still don't feel obligated to answer, I never told you because I didn't want to hurt you. Apparently you didn't feel it necessary to extend me the same courtesy.”

Abbey opened her mouth to argue, to tell him that hurting him was the last thing she'd ever wanted to do, but he didn't give her chance.

“I can't talk to you about this right now Abigail. I thought I could, but I can't. I think you should go.”

“You're dismissing me?” she crossed the room to his side, “You can't dismiss me Jed, I'm not a member of your staff. I'm your wife.”

He laughed, sardonically, almost evilly, “Haven't you heard? You're not my wife, you're just a commodity and not a particularly precious one at that. Just go Abbey,” he looked at her tiredly, clearly close to breaking but desperate not to, “go and call our daughters before a reporter does.”

A tear slid down Abbey's cheek, “Jed, no. Please don't make me do this.” She crouched at his side in tears, inconsolable at the thought of having to break the news of her affair to their children, “I can't tell them.”

He shrugged, “Not my problem. I'm not the one who got you into this mess. You've only got yourself to blame.”

X X X

“I know this may be slightly inappropriate,” Josh said to Sam once they were safely behind the closed doors of his office, “but can I just say, wow.”

Sam nodded, “Say whatever you like. I can guarantee that I'm thinking it too.”

Josh took that as his cue, conjuring the pictures of CJ and the First Lady from memory in his head, “Those photos! They were – well – they were something else. The hands! The mouths! God the mouths... and... saliva....wow.”

“My thoughts were organised with a bit more care and attention to grammar.” Sam said pointedly, “but then I am a speech writer so I guess you can be forgiven for not being able to compete, and basically, that was the gist of it.”

Josh sat down at his desk, “I would give anything to have been a fly on the wall.”

“Mmmm, yeah.” Sam replied as they both fell silent, lost in the thought of what exactly that might have been like, both quickly deciding that being a fly on the wall wouldn't have been enough, and being the filling in the sandwich might have been better.

It was Josh, in the end, who snapped out of the reverie first. “We shouldn't be obsessing about this, should we?”

Sam shook his head, “Probably not. Work to be done, not to mention a campaign to be orchestrated amid a Presidential marital crisis. You'll ring Joey?”

“Sure.” Josh glanced out of the window of his office to Donna's empty desk, “I think I'll get Donna back too. We might just need her tonight.”

X X X

On leaving Leo's office, with his words still whirling around her head, CJ made her way to the Briefing Room. It was too late for the press to be there, she knew that, but before she started trying to get to the bottom of the source of the photographs she needed a few minutes to get her head together, and she couldn't think of any better place to do that than in the Briefing Room.

That room was more like a home to her than her own apartment. She loved everything about it, not least what it did to her. Just being there gave her an elevated sense of importance, not to mention confidence. She knew it was where she did her best work. Where she proved she was someone special.

She didn't even bother to switch the lights on, instead just sitting down on the podium, and putting her head in her hands.

How the hell had she got herself into this mess? It was never meant to be this way.

She thought back to Abbey, how she'd behaved in The Oval Office. It hadn't escaped CJ's notice that she'd not looked at her once, not even after her outburst. She assumed it was intentional, albeit it out of anger, or just a self preservation thing. Either way, she'd hated it. She'd grown too used to being the centre of Abbey's world just by walking into the same room.

Leo was right. This wasn't The Jackal, not to her. It was way more, and she had no greater idea of how to get out of it then she had how she got into it in the first place.

Falling in love with the First Lady of the United States of America was not a sensible idea, but just try telling that to her heart.

And then of course there was no guarantee that Abbey felt the same way. She'd told CJ she did, and CJ wanted to believe her, but a lot had changed since then...

X X X

**The Manchester Trip - Day 3**

“Do you have to go?”

CJ was packing as Abbey sat on the bed, modelling a kimono and a disapproving pout. The look was an attractive one, and as a result CJ was struggling intensely to concentrate on her packing, in the face of an urge to down tools, remove the kimono and go for a repeat performance of the thing they'd been doing near constantly for the last three days.

“I have to go.” She said, without looking up, “It was a three day trip, this is day three, and I have a long journey in front of me.”

“You're so heartless.” Abbey replied, moving over to her, undoing the kimono slightly as she did so, “And clearly dead from the waist down if you can ignore this.” she added, as CJ managed not to be distracted by the sizeable amount of cleavage now on show.

“Its more dead from the neck down if you must know.” CJ replied, still focusing her attentions on her packing, although they were slipping slightly in the face of the improved view, “I'm exhausted.”

Abbey leapt on her words, “Then stay another night. We'll take it easy. A nice bath, pop some corn and cuddle up with a movie.”

CJ closed her eyes, groaning inwardly, feeling her determination to stay firm with Abbey disappearing fast. It did sound like one Hell of a plan; a big improvement on having to do battle with the journey home, only to arrive back at a cold and lonely apartment. That said, there were bigger issues;

“Abbey, darling, I have to go. I'm on a 6.30am flight with the President tomorrow.”

“You'd rather spend time with my husband than me?”

The answer was an obvious no. Aside from the benefits relating to spending time with Abbey, there was also the small issue of how much she was dreading coming face to face with the President himself. She'd struggled enough after the initial night she'd spent with Abbey, and this – their three days in Manchester – was a whole new ball game. All the same though,

“I have to.”

“Fine. Go then.” Abbey bit back, sounding like a spoilt child, leaving CJ totally taken aback by her attitude. She sighed, closing her suitcase before moving to sit beside Abbey on the bed.

“Hey,” She attempted to put her arm around her lover's shoulder, but to her surprise, the other woman pulled away, “Come on,” she tried again, looking Abbey right in the eyes, her heart sinking as she saw that she was crying, “Oh Abs, you'd know I'd stay if I could.”

“Jed says that.” Abbey muttered, as tears cascaded down her cheeks, “Whenever he lets me down, breaks a dinner date, or is too tired to barbeque he says he would if he could. But what good does that do me eh? And now you're at it as well, prioritising the Barlet administration over me. Why don't I matter to anyone?”

Part of CJ felt guilty, feeling cruel for having touched such a raw nerve, even if only unintentionally, but at the same time, she also couldn't help thinking that Abbey was in need of a reality check. Their break had been good. Amazingly so. She'd enjoyed every single second, but it couldn't last forever.

“Abs,” she tried again to cuddle her and finally succeeded, “Real life is still going on in Washington. We have to go back to it. I'm sorry.”

“So that's it?”

She shook her head, before gently kissing Abbey's tears away, “Not if you don't want it to be.” She wasn't entirely sure if it was true, because she had no idea how anyone would go about having an affair with one of the worlds most photographed women, but for Abbey's sake, not to mention her own, she had to believe they could at least try.

“You mean it?” Abbey asked hopefully.

She nodded, leaning in for a kiss, “You bet kid, after all," she added, hugging her tightly, "we'll always have Manchester.”

X X X

Dwelling on the memory for too long was a mistake. Seriously so, and within seconds CJ had crumpled, crying tears that she never would have believed she still had left inside of her. It wasn't fair, none of it.

How could something so wrong, feel so undeniably right? Why should something that was perfect, be the cause of so much pain?

And how the Hell was she ever going to let Abbey go? Because she had to. There was no way they were ever going to get a happily ever after on this, even if they did both feel the same.

She didn't have time to concentrate on that question for long however, because her privacy was suddenly invaded by a voice from the shadows.

“I thought I might find you here. We need to talk...”

X X X


	11. Chapter 11

“Danny?” She wiped her eyes hastily, not wanting him to see her tears, “What are you doing here? I put the lid on hours ago.”

He came over to her, sat down at her side, “Well I took it off again.” He nodded at the brown envelope that lay between them, “You got the photos I see.”

“You?” The pieces fell so hastily in to place for CJ that she found herself wondering why she hadn't realised before. If ever there were a reporter capable of uncovering any story it was Danny, and of course he had a vested interest too.

“Me." he confirmed, "Courtesy of a tip off from a Secret Service Agent who has more respect for The President and this country than you and your First Lady do.”

CJ snorted, “Is that what this is about Danny? You and your patriotism? Are you sure this isn't because you and I had a thing, and these,” she waved the envelope in his face, “were a blow to your macho ego?” Her words were borne of the concern she had for Abbey, a concern that bubbled into anger faced with the person responsible for bringing their relationship into the open. But as she finished speaking she realised her mistake. Realised that jealous tantrums weren't Danny's thing. And he must have realised that she knew that because he made no move to defend himself, instead uttering two words.

“Try again.”

She turned the envelope over in her hands, thinking about the pictures inside, seeing them in a new light, seeing them from Danny's perspective.

“Its a news story.” she said softly, grappling with the new insight, the bigger picture, “A news story of a conspiracy against the President and the American people. I'm the White House Press Secretary. If I can lie and cheat my way through this, what else am I capable of? How can anyone ever trust me again?”

He nodded, “Exactly.” His voice was firm, but compassionate too, “That didn't occur to you when you got into this?”

She shook her head, thinking of Abbey, and her constant gripe that politics had to come first every time. She hadn't been thinking about journalists, and public opinion when she'd got 'into' it. She'd been thinking about Abbey, how she made her feel, how special what they had was. Those were the important things.

“Why does politics have to come at a cost to our happiness?” She asked, not really expecting an answer, but Danny gave her one all the same,

“Because this is The White House, CJ, and that's the way it has to be.” He got to his feet, “I'm sorry. I filed my story an hour ago, it'll run tomorrow.”

She grabbed his hand, adrenalin and desperation causing through her in equal measure, wanting so badly to protect Abbey, “Danny! No! Don't do this! I'll resign, I'll disappear, anything. Please don't do this to her.”

Seeing, and hearing her reaction, he sighed, looking pained, “CJ, I said I'm sorry. Its too late. I know you care about her, I saw that first hand in New Hampshire, but my hands are tied on this.”

She sunk down onto the podium, in tears again, trembling violently, feeling like she could be sick at any minute, “You were in Manchester?”

“Yeah. I saw it all. I saw more than those photos could ever show.” The compassion was back, concern joining it, but it was clear he was standing firm, “I know the two of you have something special CJ, but I couldn't let it cloud my judgement. I don't write Mills and Boon, I'm a White House reporter. A journalist.”

She didn't respond, couldn't respond, she was crying too hard, but the worst thing was that she knew he was right. That was what hurt most of all.

Seeing her distress he moved to her side again, “Can I hold you?” He asked, hesitantly, unsure what he reaction would be, but wanting to make the offer anyway, in case she felt able to take it, “You look like you need it.”

She shook her head. She did need it, but not from him.

X X X

Donna was not happy. Not happy and not particularly sober. The latter was the result of several stress busting Martinis consumed after her trying day with Josh, and the former a result of being called back into work by the very same.

She slammed her bag down on her desk, “This had better be good Joshua Lyman.”

Josh, who had Sam trailing behind him, nodded, “Oh trust me, if its good. My office. Now.”

“You're not going to say please?”

Josh rolled his eyes, but humoured her anyway, “Please?”

“See, that didn't hurt a bit did it.” Donna retorted with a smug smile.

Minutes later however, the smug smile was gone. Replaced with complete confusion, “You're kidding right? This is a joke. You're doing this to punish me for the Hitler comment?” Receiving nothing but a poker face from Josh, she turned to Sam, “Mr Seaborn, you're very quiet. Care to set the record straight?”

Sam grinned at her question, unable to help himself, “Straight? No, not straight, very much gay. I know, I've seen the pictures.”

Donna looked from one man, to the other, trying to read their faces and getting nowhere, at least nowhere that made any sense. “You're serious about this.” She bit her lip uncertainly, “The First Lady and CJ?” It was too huge for her to believe, and yet...

“CJ told me.” She murmured, as she was hit by a crashing realisation, “Earlier. She was upset about something, a mistake she'd made. I made a joke. Oh god.” She turned to Josh, “I made a joke, I poked fun at her, and all the time she was going through Hell. I am a horrible horrible person.”

“You weren't to know.” Josh replied gently, “Don't worry about it.”

“But I am worried about it.” Donna groaned out loud, “Is she OK? This must be so hard for her.”

Her question was answered by CJ herself, as she crashed into the office, her face once again tear stained, still shaking following her confrontation with Danny and too distraught to even register Donna's arrival. Instead, she went straight to Sam, the one friend she felt she still had in the West Wing.

“It's Danny Concannon.” She told him, struggling to hold back tears, “The Times is going to run it tomorrow Sam, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

X X X

Over in the residence, Abbey was sprawled out on her bed, staring at the telephone on the bedside table like she was scared that it was about to jump up and bite her. She'd not made the calls that Jed has insisted she make. She'd tried, at least once, but got no further than picking up the receiver. She just couldn't do it.

And so instead, she was just lying there. Her head a complete mess. Worrying about Jed, the girls, and CJ.

Oh she knew she shouldn't be. She knew her lover should be the least of her worries. But no matter how much she tried to focus on her family, her concern for her 'other woman' kept creeping in; the memory of how broken she'd sounded on the phone eating away at her. It seemed so wrong. Of the two of them Claud had been the strong one. It scared her that she might now be falling to pieces, and that there was nothing she could do to help. It wasn't like she could call her.

Now there was irony. The only call she wanted to make, was the one that she couldn't, not without knowing if CJ had company.

She was just pondering if she could risk sending a text, when she became aware of a presence in the door to the room, and turned to find Jed standing there.

“How did they take it?” he asked, although he refused to look at her, staring at the floor to avoid doing so.

She bit her bottom lip nervously, “I didn't do it. I can't.”

“Just do it Abigail.” He replied, striding across the room to pick up the phone receiver and thrusting it into her hand, “There's no such word as can't.”

“No such word as can't?” She retorted, knowing she was in no position to argue, but at the same time riled by his condescending words, not to mention memories of times gone by, “No, 'I'm sorry darling, I CAN'T come to bed yet'? No, 'I'm sorry darling, we CAN'T barbecue tonight'? Because I seem to recall hearing that word enough times in the past four years.”

He slammed the receiver down again with a ferocity that made her jump out of her skin, as for one moment she thought he was actually going to hit her, something that had never ever happened in the course of their marriage.

“Are you trying to blame me for this Abigail?”

She shook her head, “No. I just...”

“Are you sure? Because your lady friend seems to think that it's all down to me. What does she know that I don't?”

She thought about lying to him, attempting to smooth the waters instead of just riling him further, but then she thought better of it. What was the point of lying any more? The damage had already been done.

“She knows how low I've been recently, how depressed I've been because I feel so lost and alone in this big old house. How much I just want to go home.” She started to cry again, as all the hurt she'd been hiding from him came spilling out, “She knows how much your decision to run for re-election hurt me.”

“I know how much my decision to run for re-election hurt you.” Jed said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, sounding less angry, and a whole lot more tired, “But I didn't know this other stuff. Why didn't you tell me? Since when can't we talk Abbey?”

She shrugged, “You had a lot on your plate. And there's your illness. I didn't want to put you under any more stress.”

“Well you're sure as Hell putting me under stress now aren't you?” He commented.

She said nothing, knowing that an apology was pointless, saying sorry would never be enough.

Jed picked up the phone receiver again, and handed it to her, “Leo just told me that The Times is running the story tomorrow. You have to call them now. On this occasion, there really is no 'can't'.”

Knowing he was right, she took the receiver from him, and reached forward to dial the eldest of her three daughters, only pausing to ask him if he'd stay with her while she made the calls.

He shook his head, getting to his feet, “No way Abbey. I'm sorry, but I'm not sitting here watching while you break our daughters hearts. I just can't.”

XXX


	12. Chapter 12

When Jed returned to The Oval Office he found the others waiting for him, ready to reconvene. He was glad. At least it would distract him from thoughts of Abbey, the way she’d cried as he left, and the conversations she’d now be having with their daughters.

After greeting them, he left briefly to step outside and speak with Charlie.

“Did you do the thing?” He asked.

Charlie nodded, handing him an envelope. He took it, and opened it, removing the letter inside. He looked down at it for a long time, surprising himself with how sad it made him feel considering everything that was happening. Not liking the feeling he shoved it hastily away and then turned to Charlie again.

“You’re going to be getting a phone call from my daughter. Let her laugh if she wants to; don’t tell her it’s inappropriate, let her laugh while she still can. And promise me that when she eventually stops laughing, you’ll take care of her.”

Again, Charlie nodded, looking solemn, knowing exactly what lay ahead, “Yes Sir. Mr President?”

“Yes Charlie?”

Charlie took a deep breath, floundering suddenly, even though he’d spent most of the evening working out what to say in this moment, “I just wanted to say…” he sighed, “I want to say something, but I don’t know what to say.”

“You and me both son,” The President replied, “You and me both.”

X X X

Inside the Office, Leo and Danny shared one sofa, while CJ sat with Sam on a second. Toby meanwhile was conspicuous in his absence, which didn’t take the President long to pick up on,

“Where’s Toby?”

“Protesting, Sir.” Leo replied, “He doesn’t think CJ should remain as Press Secretary.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” The President replied, handing CJ the envelope Charlie had just given him before turning back to Leo, “Ask Margaret to get him in here and he can watch her sign her resignation letter. Now, the rest of you,” he continued as Leo left the room, plowing on before anyone could respond to his previous action, “we need to talk about how we respond to this. I propose,” he sat at his desk, fixing his eyes on CJ, “that we put Claudia-Jean and my wife on the podium and let them give the Press Corp. a floor show. They’ll like that, they might even throw nickels. In fact,” he added, oblivious to the taken aback expressions on the faces of those around him, “Sam and Josh here will probably throw hundred dollar bills. It’ll be good for you Claudia-Jean. You can use to proceeds to set yourself up in a little apartment with the First Lady.” He turned to Sam, “What do you think?”

Sam’s mouth gaped like a goldfish and it was left to Josh, who was similarly stunned but recovered first, to come to his rescue, “With respect Sir, I think a statement read by The White House counsel would probably be more appropriate.”

“What? No floor show?” Jed replied with mock surprise, before turning to CJ who looked like she’d been hit by a ten ton truck, “Sorry. No apartment for you.”

Although she’d been expecting to be asked to resign eventually, the way in which it had come, followed so soon after by such a personal attack was more than she could take, and she found herself choking back a sob.

If her tears had any effect on the President at all, it didn’t show. In fact they barely even seemed to register with him. Instead it was all business as usual.

“Does the wording suit Claudia-Jean?” He asked, nodding in the direction of the draft letter of resignation in her hands. She glanced down at it, the words blurring because of the tears in her eyes. It was functional, a standard letter basically. It would suffice. It wasn’t like there was anything else she could say.

“Yes Sir.” She confirmed for him, just as Toby walked through the door.

“Good.” The President turned his attentions from her to his Communications Director, “Toby, you got here just in time. Miss Cregg here is about to fall on her own sword.” He picked up a pen and tossed at CJ, “Catch.”

She caught the pen deftly, then taking a deep breath scrawled her name across the bottom of the page, sealing a deal that in actual fact had been her fate since her and Abbey’s very first kiss.

“Will that be all Sir?” she asked, getting to her feet and going over to place the letter on his desk.

A silent nod was the only reply.

“In that case,” She held out a shaky hand, although she didn’t expect for one second that he’d take it, “it’s been a privilage, and an honor Sir.”

He looked at her, his gut instinct being to ignore her hand, but then, remembering his sadness at seeing her resignation letter for the first time, he though better of it, and reached out to firmly shake it.

“Thank you CJ.”

She let his hand drop then, turned on heel and walked away, her eyes on the ground, knowing she’d fall apart completely if she looked at any of the others.

Then with a heavy heart, she walked out of The Oval Office for the last time.

X X X

“CJ,” Donna was upon her, and engulfing her in a hug before she was even out of the door. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back and within seconds she collapsed in the other woman’s arms.

“It’s over.” She sobbed uncontrollably, “It’s all over Donna.”

“What’s over?” Donna asked, as she rubbed CJ’s back soothingly, “You and Mrs Bartlet? Oh, CJ, I’m so sorry.”

The assumption the Assistant had made stunned CJ, to an extent where it actually stopped her crying abruptly, causing her to step back to look at her curiously, amazed that someone, anyone in The White House had been capable of presuming an issue was personal rather than professional.

“No,” she murmured, “Well, actually, yes, probably, I guess so.” She wiped her eyes, “But I meant all this.” She gestured around the corridor, at all the ornate fixtures and fittings that she’d been awestruck by in the beginning but had come to take for granted, “I’m done here Donna. POTUS just demanded my resignation.” She smiled weakly, “That was shortly before he demanded a floorshow, but I don’t think he was so serious about that.”

“That’s awful. I really am sorry.” Donna replied, looking like she was about to burst into tears herself, but CJ just shrugged, “I was expecting it, admittedly not the floorshow bit, but the rest. I’m fine.” She added, wanting to reassure her friend, although tears were already sliding down her cheeks again.

Donna reached out, and squeezed her hand, “Do you have to go right now? They have some cranberry muffins in the mess, and we could talk.”

CJ bit her lip uncertainly, sorely tempted by the prospect of both muffins and ‘talk’. She needed a friend at that moment, and since the person she really wanted was unobtainable, Donna would make a half decent substitute. She certainly trusted her.

Then again, “Don’t you have work to do? Has Josh not got you digging out files from the archives pertaining to other Press Secretaries screwing First Ladies?”

Donna shook her head, “Josh said that taking you for muffins was my job tonight.”

“Sweet,” CJ sighed, “But I still don’t know if I should. I’ve been asked to leave.”

“No one escorted you out.” Donna pointed out, “And you still have your security pass. Come on,” she said gently, taking CJ’s hand, “well have muffins and then I’ll help you pack up your office. You can’t leave Gail behind anyway…”

X X X

“Mom, what is it?”

Daughter number three, and Abbey was beside herself. The first two calls hadn’t gone well. Elizabeth had shrieked; at length. And Ellie; Ellie had hung up without another word.

And now it was her baby girl, her Zoey. And she couldn’t even bring herself to open her mouth. Couldn’t bring herself to do anything but cry.

“For God sake mum. What is it?” Zoey understandably sounded scared, terrified in fact, “What’s happened? Is it dad? Is he sick?”

Abbey knew then that she had to force the words out. She couldn’t let Zoey go on thinking it was Jed. She knew that was her daughter’s worst nightmare.

“Honey, there’s going to be some press, bad press.”

Zoey started to laugh, desensitized enough by the last four years of their lives to not care about the press, “Oh for God sake mom, I’m used to that. I thought it was something serious. What is it this time?”

She took a deep breath, blurted out the words.

“It’s me and CJ.”

“You and CJ?” Zoey’s confusion came through in her voice to such an extent that Abbey could picture the look on her face. It was a look she’d seen many times since Zoey’s childhood; the crinkled little nose, the curious pout, “What did you and CJ do?”

“We,” Abbey thought hard, wondering how to phrase what exactly is was that she and CJ had done, not wanting to patronize her daughter, but also not knowing exactly how much information would be too much information for her, “we’ve grown close Zoey. Exceptionally close.”

There was a long silence on the end of the phone, and Abbey held her breath, waiting for either fireworks or just continued confusion. But to her surprise, neither came, and Zoey’s actual reaction was something else entirely.

“Close eh? Well, at least the explains the love bite you tried to hide the day we went to New York." She said, sounding nothing more than mildly amused, "My God mom, I went through some possibilities but I never saw that one coming…”

X X X


	13. Chapter 13

Zoey didn’t need to see her mom’s face to know how she reacted to her comment. She could imagine the shock, the surprise. She knew that it would never have occurred to her mother that she might already have known that there was someone new in her life. She was convinced her parents still thought she was a self absorbed kid, too wrapped up in her life to care about theirs.

And that was a long way from the truth. She worried about them every day, both of them. Saw that things were a long way from good.

All the same her mom, when she eventually recovered from the shock enough to speak, still sounded sceptical,

“What makes you think it hadn’t come from your father? The love bite I mean.”

Zoe hesitated, knowing that there could be no more awkward conversation than one between mother and daughter about their respective sex lives, and yet, that was the only answer she could possibly offer.

“I just figured your and dad’s barbecuing schedule must have been pretty skewered lately, no pun intended,” she explained, before spilling out the rest of her answer before she could change her mind about doing so, “I mean I’m not getting any, and Charlie’s not the ‘main man’, just his assistant.”

There was yet another stunned silence from the other end of the line,

“You know about barbecuing?”

She contemplated making a joke about the birds and bees and the talk she’d been given as a child, but her mom sounded so embarrassed that she thought better of it, “Yeah, Charlie mentioned it. It’s no big deal. I mean you’re adults, you’re entitled to have sex.” All the same, she shuddered slightly at the thought. Some things in life were just plain wrong.

“Well, thank you for that Zoey.” Her mother replied, “And likewise I hasten to add, although you might not want to mention that fact to your father. He’s always been something of a traditionalist, and likely to be even more so at the moment.” She paused and then hesitantly added, “So you really knew all along? Just because of that?”

Zoey sighed, “No mom, not just because of that.” She thought momentarily. The last thing she really wanted to be doing was dragging out to The White House in the middle of the night, but at the same time, there were some conversations that needed to be had face to face, “I’ll come over. We need to talk.”

X X X

“Dollar for them?” Donna said to CJ as she placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and one of the muffins in front of her. Since the mess had closed some time before she’d had to make the drink herself, and as she’d done so she’d been watching CJ, aware how lost in her thoughts she was.

CJ smiled weakly, “These thoughts are worth so much more than a dollar Donna. This time tomorrow you could get thousands for them.”

Donna sat down opposite her, sipping own hot chocolate, “Are you thinking about Mrs Bartlet?”

CJ nodded, “Yeah, although I don’t tend to call her that now.”

“What do you call her?” Donna asked hesitantly, not wanting to pry, but at the same time wanting CJ to open up to her, “Honey? Sugarlump?”

“Is that Josha’s question?" CJ replied, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, "Samual’s maybe?” It hadn’t escaped CJ notice that the boys had taken to looking at her differently, as if she were some kind of porn star as opposed to the professional woman they’d spent the last four years working with. Not that she minded too much – they were men; she'd never expected anything less.

To her surprise though, Donna responded in the negative, shaking her head, “It’s all me. I just want you to know that you can talk to me about your relationship. It doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I’m a liberated woman.”

“Thank you.” She replied, touched by Donna’s words, and the support she was giving her, “It means a lot. I’m just so worried about her Donna.” She explained, picking at her muffin, too concerned for Abbey to have much of an appetite.

Seeing how distressed she was, Donna reached out, taking her hand, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” She said reassuringly, “I know this is bad, but she’s a strong woman.”

CJ sighed listlessly, “She can be a strong woman, but she’s not always.” And didn’t she know it. She’d witnessed it first hand on more than one occasion.

“You’ve seen a whole new side to her?” Donna said gently.

CJ smiled, as Donna’s words prompted memory after memory, reminders of her time with Abbey, “Donna,” she replied slowly, “I’ve seen more sides to her than you could ever imagine.”

X X X

**3 Days After Manchester**

CJ was sat in the office when the call came through. It was gone 1am, but there was work to be done, and besides which she had no urge to go home. Since Manchester her apartment, which had never been particularly warm and welcoming in the first place, seemed even less like home, as she rattled around in it, detesting her own company even more than usual.

She leant over the pile of press statements she was proof reading and grabbed the phone, “CJ Cregg’s asylum for the clinically insane.” She wasn’t especially worried as to the identity of the caller, since it was an internal call, and anyone who was still working at that time would probably appreciate the joke.

“Claud, it’s me.”

That got her attention. She had wondered earlier in the evening if she might get a call, since she knew the President was upstate at a dinner and was staying over, but once midnight had come and gone she’d more or less given up hope.

“Hey,” she smiled, before glaring at Gail who she could have sworn was staring at her disapprovingly, “how are you?”

“I can’t sleep. I’m lonely. My bed seems empty without you.”

CJ chuckled softly, “Is that so?”

“It’s so.”

“Well,” she replied, leaning back on her chair, putting her feet up on the desk, “that my darling is very flattering. Although technically,” she added as an afterthought, “surely its your husband that the bed seems empty without. It’s his bed after all.”

“Jed, bed, smed.” Abbey retorted, sounding about 5 years old, and clearly pouting at the other end of the phone, “It’s you I'm calling.”

CJ grinned as she stuck the phone in the crook of her neck and shoulder, gathering the press statements into a neat pile as she did so, wanting her desk clear for the next morning, "Should I come over?"

"No," Abbey let her be disappointed for all of half a second before she continued, "Can I come to you?"

CJ glanced around the deserted Communications office, sorely tempted to agree. Then again, there was every chance that someone might have just stepped out for coffee, or to pop to the little bagel shop at the end of the street to by a late night come early morning snack.

"Claud," Abbey spoke again, sounding playful, "please? I want some of that great hot chocolate from the mess. The stuff with marshmellows and whipped cream. It'll help me sleep."

"Sleep eh?" CJ asked with mock scepticism, rolling her eyes as she did so, bemused by how seriously Abbey was turning on the charm on that evening. And none of it was necessary - she'd have made love to her on the steps of the Capitol Building she wanted her so badly.

"Yes, sleep." Abbey retorted, "Well, sleep in inverted commas anyway. Don't make me ask again honey. I want you."

If the playfulness, the whipped cream and the marshmellows hadn't been incentives enough, the 'I want you' was the deal breaker. CJ loved to be wanted. She smiled, wandering round her office, closing the blinds and checking that the lock still worked on the door, "Tell your Secret Service Detail that I want you here in 5 minutes."

Abbey laughed, the same unbridled laugh of pleasure a child gives when they get their own way on a long debated bone of contention, "Claud my darling, they'll have me there in 2 and a half..."

X X X

"It took six." CJ told Donna with a smile, totally caught up in the memory, "She came shuffling into the office in big fluffy slippers, pink stripy pyjamas and with a serious case of bed hair." she bit her lip, aware she was getting emotional and feeling a little embarrassed about it, "I've never seen her look so beautiful. I melted just looking at her. Not that you needed to know that," she looked away bashfully, thinking she may have gone too far, "sorry."

"Stop being sorry." Donna admonished, "Its good you can be honest about your feelings. It can't have been fun hiding them."

CJ laughed, Donna's words prompting the memories of clandestine meetings and kisses in dark corners, times when secrecy had felt very sexy indeed,

"Oh, I don't know... it wasn't all bad.

X X X


	14. Chapter 14

Abbey was incredibly grateful when Zoe arrived at The White House. For one thing, after the reactions of her older daughters, it was a relief to know that her youngest daughter was trying her best to understand, and to add to that she was glad of the distraction, pleased to have someone to talk to, to take her mind off of what was going on in the West Wing; whatever that was.

Then there was the warm hug that Zoey gave her the minute she walked through the door into her bedroom. Never had a cuddle been so badly needed; she didn’t ever remember being so desperate for physical contact, which Zoey must have realized because even after she broke the hug, she stayed, curled up on the bed beside her, something she’d not done since she was a child.

All that said she was still surprised by the way her daughter was reacting. She doubted she’d have been so sympathetic if her own mother had played away from home, especially with another woman. However, when she questioned Zoey as to the reasons why, it all started to make sense.

**9 Weeks Earlier  
3 Weeks B.C.J (before CJ)**

“Mom,” Zoey was sat on the bed in her dorm, curling the telephone cord round her finger apprehensively, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine honey. How are you?” Came the reply, and she was relieved to hear that it wasn’t slurred. It felt like every time she’d called home recently her mother had been in the midst of a party that no one else had been invited to, and it was worrying the hell out of her. It just wasn’t like her. She’d always liked a drink, both her parents had, but since she’d forfeited her medical license it seemed like she rarely stopped.

“I’m alright thanks.” She took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to say wasn’t going to go down very well, “I’m calling about the weekend. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it home for lunch on Sunday.” She cringed inwardly, waiting for the inevitable outburst, but it didn’t come.

In fact, nothing came. Just silence.

“Mom?” she said hesitantly, “I’m sorry. I’m up to my eyes with work. I’d come if I could,”

“But you can’t.” Her mother finished, for her, sounding like she might burst into tears at any minute, “Fine. I understand.” She added, sounding like she didn’t understand in the slightest.

If she was trying to make Zoey feel guilty, it was working. She got to her feet, dragging her phone over to her desk, glancing through the list of work she had to do over the weekend and wondering if maybe some of it could wait, although she knew deep down that it couldn’t.

Suddenly she became aware of a clinking sound on the other end of the line, and instantly pictured her mom, searching her way through the drinks cabinet trying to find something to drink at – she glanced at her watch – 3 in the afternoon.

Something seriously wasn’t right with her. Her reaction was way overboard to be about a single solitary missed Sunday lunch.

“Was it something important this weekend?” she asked hesitantly, wondering if she’d forgotten a special occasion or similar but her mom was quick to disabuse her of the notion.

“It was just lunch, and I said it was fine. Forget about it.”

Zoey sighed. Forget about it. That was a joke. There was no way she could forget about it, especially no when she realized her mom was crying.

“Mom,” she said hesitantly, “Is something wrong?” She glanced at the picture of her parents that she kept on her desk, taken in the days before The White House. They looked so happy, so together. It had been a while since they’d looked like that; her mom had barely smiled since her dad had announced he was running for reelection. “Are you and dad ok?”

“We’re good honey. You just concentrate on your studies. We’ll see you another weekend.” And then, without another word the line went dead.

She shook her head. It didn’t make an ounce of sense. Her mom had always encouraged her to be so independent, much more so than her father; it seemed ridiculous that she’d make such a fuss about a broken lunch date.

Then again, her mom had been craving her company lately. She was always calling up, suggesting things they could do together, wanting to monopolize her time. She’d put it down to empty nest syndrome before, but after their conversation she was really starting to worry.

She was starting to think her mom needed serious help.

X X X

“Let me get this straight,” Abbey said, looking at Zoey like she’d sprouted a second head, “you think I have a drink problem?”

She shook her head, starting to wish she’d never started the conversation, never opened the can of worms, “Not a major one, but I do think you were drinking more than you should. I mean,” she thought back to the evening that followed the afternoon with the Sunday lunch phone call, “do you even remember that afternoon? Or is it all a bit vague after you spoke to me? Do you remember emailing me to tell me you missed me too much and that you wanted me to move out of the dorm?”

Abbey bit her lip, knowing full well that she remembered no such email and feeling guilty that she’d put her daughter under so much pressure. Then there was another issue.

“So the only reason you’re still talking to me when your sisters aren’t is because you’re worried about me? Because I drink too much.”

Zoe smiled, wrapping her arms around her, “No. The reason I’m still talking to you is because I know that you wouldn’t have betrayed dad with no good reason. You obviously needed CJ.” She reached for her mom’s hand, “Look, that morning, on Air Force 2, you have no idea how relieved I was. It was 5am and yet you were buoyant and bouncy and,” she took a deep breath, “you were my mom again. You weren’t the clingy, unhappy looking stranger I’d been faced with since dad announced he was seeking a second term; you were back to your old self. And I decided that if you seeing someone else was responsible for that then I wouldn’t rock the boat. I just wanted you to be happy mom.” She hugged her tightly, “I still do.”

X X X

In the West Wing, Sam was in his office, still pontificating over the photographs when Josh burst in, looking harassed.

“We have a problem.”

“No,” Sam said, “We don’t have a problem. I think we’re pitching all this wrong. I don’t think we should consider it a problem that the First Lady has been sleeping with the Press Secretary, I think we should work out how to use it to our advantage. I think it could be an interesting election strategy, a good way to tap into the section of society who are apathetic towards politics. The soap opera brigade. And the perverts.”

Josh stopped in his tracks, mouth agape, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“You’ve been thinking about the photos again haven’t you?”

Sam didn’t even bother to deny it, “You like them too.”

Josh conceded the point with a nod, “But I think it’s important to remember there are bigger issues here.” He added, remembering the broken look on CJ’s face as she signed the resignation letter, “CJ is currently in the mess with Donna, crying into a muffin; we don’t have a Press Secretary; the President doesn’t seem to know how best to pitch his anger and now this.” He handed over an email he’d printed shortly before for Sam to read.

He did so, and was instantly incredulous, “She can’t be serious. We can’t go to him with this.”

Josh shrugged, “I don’t think we have a choice.”

X X X

After a brief coin toss, which Josh won, they made their way to The Oval Office, gathering Toby and Leo on route. When they arrived, and were ushered in by Charlie, they found the President sat at his desk, staring down at a photograph of Abbey.

Sam swore under his breath. It wasn’t a good start.

“Sir,” he started, incredibly hesitantly, “Josh heard from Joey. She wants to poll on this as soon as The Times hits the newsstands.”

The President looked up vaguely, the words clearly not sinking in, “I’m sorry?”

“Joey wants to poll on this so we can gauge the best way to respond.”

“Do we really need to poll?” the President asked, “I mean I was never serious about the floorshow thing. I liked your idea about a statement just fine.”

Sam gave Josh a pleading look, begging him to come to the rescue, but he stayed silent, safe in the knowledge that he’d won the coin toss fair and square. Vowing never to speak to Josh again, Sam took a deep breath and then decided to get it over with.

“It would be a poll on what we say, not how we say it.”

The President looked confused, “What we say? Other than that CJ has been sleeping with my wife, and I’d like the press to leave my daughters alone at this difficult time.”

“No.” Sam stepped forward; handing the printed email from Joey over, deciding that would be the best way to end the misery. Or else just make it a thousand times worse.

There was silence as he read it and then came the explosion,

“You’re asking me to poll on whether or not I should divorce my wife? This isn’t a reality TV show gentlemen. Joey Lucas is aware of that fact, isn’t she?”

Seeing Sam floundering, Leo stepped into the breach, “We’re all aware of that Mr President, but this is an election year.”

“No Leo,” The President got to his feet, as the crashing realization hit him that everything CJ had said earlier - her accusation about Abbey being little more than a political tool - was true, “this is a marriage. Excuse me; I need to speak to my wife.”

X X X


	15. Chapter 15

“What do you think will happen now?” Zoey asked Abbey. They were still curled up on the bed, with Zoey stroking Abbey’s hair, as if she were the mother and Abbey the child instead of the other way round, “What will dad do?”

Abbey shrugged, lost for an answer in spite of the fact she’d thought of nothing but that particular question for hours. It didn’t matter how much she contemplated it, she was incapable of coming any closer to an answer.

“Do you think he’ll sack CJ?”

“Yes,” she replied, sitting up, rubbing her eyes tiredly, “I think he’ll fire her. He hasn’t yet as far as I know, but I think it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion.” She felt a sense of crippling guilt at the thought of the other woman losing the job that she knew meant the world to her; and all because of her. Zoey must have seen the pain in her eyes, because she quickly wrapped her arms around her again,

“Are you worried about her?”

Abbey made to deny it, not wanting her daughter to know that she even cared what CJ was going through, not wanting to risk pushing her away and losing her as well as the other two, not to mention Jed. And yet she couldn’t, starting to cry as soon as she tried.

“I’m worried sick Zoey. This isn’t her fault. It’s mine. I’m the one with the husband, and kids. She shouldn’t be being punished for this.”

“I’m not sure dad’s going to see it that way.” Zoey replied, before hesitantly adding another question, prompted by her mother’s obvious concern for her lover, “Do you love her mom?”

The question hung in the air, not because Abbey didn’t know the answer, but because she didn’t know if she should share it with her daughter. In any event, as it turned out, she didn’t have to.

“That’s a question I’d like an answer to myself…”

Jed was stood in the doorway, the expression on his face a bundle of contradictions. There was anger, hurt, confusion, but also guilt, and an apparently genuine sense of concern. He appeared to both of them like he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

Abbey took a deep breath, turning to Zoey, “Sweetheart, could you give us a minute?” Sensing her reluctance to leave, she hugged her tightly, “I’ll be ok. Please honey.”

Zoey got to her feet and slowly, scared by what would happen when she left, made her way out of the room. When she reached her father’s side, she looked at him pleadingly, “Take it easy daddy, please. She’s hurting too.”

If it hurt Jed that his little princess, his baby, was ‘batting for the other side’ – albeit not in the same sense as his wife – he didn’t let it show. Instead he hugged her, reassured her and sent her on his way.

“She’s a perceptive girl.” Abbey said softly, when Zoey had gone.

“More perceptive than her father?” Jed asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before asking a second question, Zoey’s question, “Do you love her?”

This time Abbey knew there was no way she could answer. To do so would have been to put a nail in the coffin on their marriage with a single word. She looked up at him tearfully, trying to buy herself time.

“Love is a hard thing to define Jed.”

“I think not.” He retorted, “The Oxford English Dictionary describes it as ‘an intense feeling of deep affection’, William Shakespeare as ‘a spirit all compact of fire’, and for me,” his voice trembled slightly as he gave his own definition, “it’s the way my heart leaps whenever you walk into a room Abigail.”

His words were too much for Abbey who crumpled instantly. No matter what he’d done, no matter how much their relationship had deteriorated, no matter what she felt for CJ, he was still her husband. All that said, her tears didn’t elicit any sympathy from him. Or give her a get out clause as far as his question was concerned.

“Do. You. Love. Her?” Her grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him, “Because I’ve just walked out of a room where people were trying to suggest I should divorce you, but if you’re in love with someone else I might as well walk straight back into it.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did, it was enough to stop Abbey crying, as she stared up at her husband aghast; “You’re being advised to divorce me?”

He sighed, ‘Actually, we didn’t get quite that far yet, but Joey Lucas is suggesting I poll on it.”

“Poll on it? This isn’t a reality TV show!” She snapped, her tears forgotten and her anger returned. “How is this going to work Jed? ‘After the break the public decides whether to evict Mrs Barlet from The White House, oh, and Mariah Carey pops up to promote her new single’.”

He sat down beside her, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, “Yeah, well, actually I said something similar myself. The fact they even suggested it made me realise that Claudia-Jean was right.” He admitted, because although it hurt his pride, he knew it was the truth. He hesitantly reached for her hand, not even sure how he’d react to her touch until it was tucked safely in his, “Abbey,wen did our marriage stop being a fairytale and become a political briefing paper?”

She shrugged, staring down at his hand wrapped round hers like it was an alien being, surprised to see it there after everything that had happened, “Around the point you spent more nights with the Joint Chiefs than me I guess.”

“You really feel neglected by me?” He asked, regretting it instantly when he realised he’d already seen the answer, “Actually,” he continued, “don’t answer that. The photos told me everything I needed to know.” He dropped her hand, getting to his feet and pacing the room, “We could make this better Abbey. There are things we could do. Hell,” the words were out of his mouth before he could even comprehend them himself, “I could even stick to my promise. Drop out of the race. Serve a single term. But,” he turned back to her, looking her right in the eyes, “there’s no point discussing this if you’re in love with her; if you’re no longer in love with me.”

It took Abbey a long time to answer, too busy trying to comprehend the things he’d said; his new level of understanding, the very notion that he’d consider leaving office at the end of his first term, to be able to come up with an answer of her own.

“Is your silence your response Abigail?” He snapped after a few minutes, obviously finding said silence unbearable, “Your way of telling me that our marriage is over?”

She took a deep breath, tried one last time to gather her thoughts, before she spoke.

“No. It’s my way of telling you that I don’t know.”

X X X

When she left her parents Zoey took herself off to the West Wing in search of Charlie. In part her reasons were selfish; she got so few opportunities to spend time with him that every moment counted, but, as well as that, she also wanted to find out from him what was happening with CJ so she could pass the news onto her mom; even if it wasn’t good news, at least she’d know.

She found Charlie sat at his desk, doing the rounds of the news websites, obviously searching for the smallest hint of the story that they both knew would shortly be unleashing itself upon them. She watched him for a few moments from the doorway, before eventually making her presence known.

“Hey babe.”

He smiled when he saw her, but was obviously concerned too, getting up from the desk to come to her side and wrap his arms around her.

“Zoey, how are you?”

She smiled, touched by his concern but feeling it unnecessary, “I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about me. I’m not wrapped up in all of this like certain other people are.” She added, thinking of her mom, back where she’d left her, curled up in tears on the bed.

Charlie nodded in agreement, but when he spoke she realised that it wasn’t her mother he was thinking of.

“I know, but you don’t have to worry, I’m keeping an eye on him. He’s doing ok.”

“Dad?” She sat down in Charlie’s chair, helping herself to an apple from his desk drawer, “Oh I know he’ll be fine. He’s got his anger to keep him warm. It’s my mom I’m worried about. Speaking of whom,” she looked at him hopefully, “Do you know what’s happening with CJ? Mom’s completely up the wall about her.”

“CJ?” His said, sounding stunned, “Why does your mom even care? Shouldn’t she be focused on your father, what he’s going through?”

His attitude was typical Zoey thought, of a member of her father’s inner circle. Typical even of her father himself. Everything always had to be about him and his presidency, never mind that there was a world outside 1600 Pennsylvania Avene. People in his life who needed him more.

“Dad has plenty of people to look after him, just like always.” She pointed out, snippily, fighting the temptation to fling the apple at his head, “And perhaps if he’d paid more attention to my mom we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Charlie rolled his eyes disdainfully, “You’re not buying this whole theory about your mother feeling neglected? Surely you’ve got more sense than that.”

His comments instantly riled Zoey, in part because she knew how neglected her mom had felt – she’d seen the pain she’d been in first hand, just like her father should have done. But there was more to it than that. Abbey wasn’t the only Bartlet whose love life had paid the price of all things political; she’d had her fair share of lonely nights too. Not that she was about to tell Charlie that. Instead she concentrated on the former point. Her mom.

“He’s never there for her unless he needs her. She’s always alone. Of course she feels neglected.”

“With respect,” Charlie retorted, with a stern expression that to her discomfort reminded her of her father, “her husband is leader of the free world, that doesn’t give her the right to act like a free woman. Life at The White House is hard work, we all work hard. I mean,” he added, sounding, Zoey thought, like a sanctimonious prick, “you and I have had to miss dates sometimes. I don’t see you running around with every other guy on campus.”

If she’d been riled by his initial comments, his latter words pushed her completely over the edge, as she found herself wanting to defend both her mother, and herself.

“She is not running around with ‘every other guy on campus’. Actually, she’s found one woman who loves and respects her in ways my father seems only to be able to dream about.” She raged, turning on him angrily, “And you know what Charlie? I’m envious of her. I wish I had it in me to do precisely the same. Perhaps then I’d find someone who loves me more than they love my father, and wouldn't that just make a change...”

X X X


	16. Chapter 16

“So you really met up in here? Did stuff?” Donna asked curiously, as she helped CJ pack up the contents of her office. She knew the question was intrusive, but it didn’t feel off limits to her. CJ had been open and honest enough during their hot chocolate and muffins session in the mess for all kinds of cards to be laid on the table.

CJ, who was busily emptying her jam packed desk, looked up and smiled at her, “Yeah, we did.” She blushed a little as she reached out, grazing the surface of the desk with the palm of her hand, “Right here.”

Donna, seeing the way she looked away shyly immediately after she finished speaking opened her mouth to respond, knowing that reassurance would be needed that she wasn’t feeling uncomfortable with the conversation, and that she didn’t consider the other woman to be a freak. It was a reassurance she’d had to offer up several times that evening. However, before she could get the words out Sam, who had been lurking outside the door, just out of their line of vision, spoke, unable to contain himself any longer.

“In here? On the desk? Oh. My. God. How exactly did that work?” He asked, coming into the room and completely ignoring the death stares that Donna was giving him. She knew he wasn’t being purposefully cruel, but she also knew how sensitive CJ was feeling and didn’t want anyone making things worse for her.

She needn’t have worried. CJ’s instant reaction to Sam’s outburst was to start laughing.

“Dear God Samuel, get over it. Yes,” she confirmed, “we did it on the desk, but as a leading light of the current administration I don’t think you should really know the details, do you?”

Sam however, was unmoved, “As a leading light of the administration maybe, but I’m a man too CJ.”

“Yeah, a caveman.” Donna piped up, still looking at him disapprovingly, “Just leave it Sam.”

“It’s ok.” CJ cut in, “Donna, could you do me a favour?” She looked at the huge pile of ‘take home’ stuff that was fast taking over the floor of her office, “I always wondered why my apartment seemed so empty and now we have an answer; my entire life has been here instead. Do you think you could find me a box please?”

She waited until Donna had gone on her way and then sat at her desk, gesturing for Sam to do the same. Once he was seated, and she was sure she had his attention, she gave him a serious look – stern teacher to naughty school boy – and hesitantly started to speak.

“I know I’m leaving, but I hope you and I can stay friends.” She meant it, knowing that their experiences within The White House would bind them together for a long time to come, “However, I get the impression for that to work, for us to move on from this, there’s something we need to discuss.” Her earnest expression held for a few seconds longer, and then became a smile, “Go on, ask the question.”

Sam smiled too then, relieved that she was, and more than aware what the question in question actually was, “Ok, but first, can I invite Josh in?”

CJ laughed, putting her fingers to her lips and letting out a loud piercing whistle, only for Josh to appear seconds later to take the seat next to Sam’s with an enthusiastic smile on his face matched only by that of Sam himself.

“Go on then,” CJ said encouragingly, “Ask away.”

The boys glanced at each other, and then, in perfect unison, it came…

“What do two women do in bed CJ?”

X X X

While CJ was enlightening Sam and Josh in all matters Sapphic, Donna went in search of boxes, a mission which found her trying to carry one nearly twice her size and careering into Zoey as she left Charlie’s office like a whirlwind, still fuming from their altercation.

When she saw Donna though, she stopped in her tracks, apologizing, taking responsibility for the collision and then seeing the box, taking the opportunities to get the answers that Charlie had refused to give her.

“Is that for CJ?” She asked, “Is she packing? Did dad ask her to leave?”

Donna nodded, slightly warily, concerned that revealing CJ’s location to a Bartlet daughter might result in her friend being on the receiving end of an angry tirade, or an equally harsh slap. But to her surprise, Zoey seemed to be full of concern for her.

“She must be taking it hard.” Zoey said softly, already worrying how she’d break the news to her mom. Sure, she’d expected it, but there was no telling how she’d cope when she had it confirmed.

“She’s devastated.” Donna replied, “Trying not to show it, but she is. She’s also,” she added hesitantly, not entirely sure she was doing the right thing, “really worried about Mrs Bartlet.”

Zoey sighed, “She and I both.” She thought momentarily, “Donna, could you do me the hugest favour?”

Sensing that she’d found a kindred spirit in her desire to help the two women, Donna nodded, “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Get CJ to the Rose Garden. Now? Please…”

X X X

In Sam’s office, trying to recover from CJ’s ‘talk’, Sam and Josh felt like they’d been hit by a truck; a truck carrying pornographic magazines.

“Did she say whips?” Josh asked, checking his mind which had been pretty much blown had remembered correctly.

Sam nodded, “She said whips. And chains. And hairbrush handles.” He looked at Josh questioningly, “Did that strike you as too much information?”

Josh shook his head, “Definitely not too much information. But I’m telling you, I’m not going to be able to sleep for a week.”

“Now that IS too much information.” Sam deadpanned, “CJ and the First Lady I can cope with, what you do in the bedroom is something else entirely.”

X X X

“What’s wrong with those two?” Donna asked CJ as she came back into her office, dragging the box behind her, nodding in the direction of Sam’s office, “They look like Christmas, Thanksgiving and Hanukah came all at once.”

CJ grinned, something she hadn’t done since the photos had landed on her desk several hours before, “My leaving gift to them. A parting shot.” She started loading stuff into the box, not bothering to pack methodically, just throwing it all in, “They’re going to be calling Abbey ‘Bondage Bartlet’ behind her back for weeks.”

Donna stared at her, surprised by her sudden good humour, and also a little taken aback by her apparent lack of concern for her lover’s name and reputation. Seeing her surprise CJ shrugged,

“I can’t keep feeling suicidal Donna, not if I’m going home to an empty flat. And Abbey won’t mind.” She pictured the smile that would flood Abbey’s face if she ever got the opportunity to find out what she’d done, “She’d think it was hilarious. It’s not like its true. And,” she added, “the boys wouldn’t let on anyway, so I might as well let them have their fun.”

“I guess.” Donna replied uncertainly, not questioning CJ’s knowledge of the First Lady – after all, clearly none of them knew her like she did, but just finding it all a little strange. After nearly four years in The White House she thought none of her colleagues could surprise her any more, and yet they kept doing so. Especially that night.

She didn’t exactly have time to dwell on it though, not since her ‘box’ mission had been replaced with another. She moved to CJ’s side, put her hand on her arm, stopping her packing in its tracks.

“Let’s go for a walk. You can say goodbye to stuff. Like the Rose Garden.”

“A walk?” CJ gave her a puzzled look, “I’ve just resigned and you want me to do The White House tour? And what the Hell do you mean ‘say goodbye to stuff’?”

Donna groaned inwardly, cursing Zoey for setting her the task, and CJ for being such a complete grouch thus making it so difficuly. She thought on her feet, because she was an Assistant, and luckily, thinking on their feet was what Assistants did best, “When I was a kid, we moved houses once and I had to say goodbye to everything; the cracked tile in the bathroom, the bird table in the garden, the spiders in the cupboard under the…”

CJ cut her dead before she could continue, “Maybe you did, but since I’m a fully grown former Press Secretary and not a seven year old Donna with her hair in bunches, maybe I’ll pass.”

“Please,” Donna tried again, “just the Rose Garden. You’ll regret it if you don’t. It was the site of some of your greatest triumphs after all – historical treaties, the pardoning of turkeys.”

“Too many bloody turkeys.” CJ retorted, but her tone softened, and then she nodded, “Fine. Let’s go say goodbye to the Rose Garden. But if I cry, it’s entirely your fault.”

X X X

Abbey wasn’t happy. On several counts.

“I’m cold. I’m tired. And you don’t even smoke.”

Zoey, who was struggling not to choke on the contraband cigarette that she’d swiped off one of her Secret Service Detail, silenced her with a stony glare.

“Do I look bothered mother? Your marital crisis,” she coughed as the smoke assaulted her lungs, “has wrecked my two year relationship. Joining me out here is the least you can do.”

They were walking in the grounds, at Zoey’s instigation that she ‘wanted a cigarette’, a want that had gone down particularly badly with her doctor mother. Still, she was determined to persist.

The said same mother would thank her for it in the end.

But that not at that moment; as she choked on the cigarette for the third time.

“Let me guess, you smoke but you don’t inhale.” Abbey said, rolling her eyes, “What is this charade all about Zoey? It’s ridiculous. I’m going back inside.”

Zoey dropped the cigarette to the ground, grabbing her arm, “No. Mom. Don’t.” Linking arms with her she led her quickly to the Rose Garden where two figures sat side by side on one of the benches, talking quietly between themselves, “Look.”

Abbey turned to look at her, her bottom lip wobbling as the pieces fell into place, leaving her near to tears, “Is that who I think it is?”

She nodded slowly, “You needed to see her. And, I heard a rumour she needed to see you.” She leant over and wiped the tears from her mom’s eyes, “Go on, I’m watching your back.”

Shakily Abbey threw her arms around her daughter, hugging her tightly, “Thank you, and, I’m sorry I was so vile. You have no idea how much this means to me…”

Zoey smiled, spotting the unmistakable look of love in CJ’s eyes as she noticed their presence for the first time.

“I think I do mom. I really do.”

X X X


	17. Chapter 17

“Abs... darling…” CJ’s trembling arms were wrapped around Abbey, pulling her to her and stroking her hair before she had chance to register how inappropriate the embrace was. And even then, when she realized, Abbey was clinging too tightly to her to be able to let go.

Instead she moved her back slowly, still holding her, but keeping her at arms length, enabling her to look into her eyes.

“How are you?”

“Oh, you know.” Abbey murmured, tears sliding down her cheeks, “Chipper. You?”

“I’ve had better days.” CJ replied honestly, “although,” she added, the words slipping out in spite of the fact that she knew they shouldn’t, “it feels so much better just for seeing you.”

“I’m sorry about before, in The Oval.” Abbey said softly, glad to be getting the chance to apologise and rid herself of a guilt that had been gnawing away at her for hours, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t speak to you. I wanted to but,’

“But nothing.” CJ held a finger to her lips to silence her, “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Your husband was there. It wasn’t the time or the place.” She took her hand and led her to a nearby bench before continuing, “I’m just glad you’re not angry with me.”

Abbey shrugged, “We have enough people hating with us without tearing chunks out of each other as well.”

She sounded so dejected and it tore at CJ’s heart to see her so miserable, not least because she blamed herself for it, felt like she’d brought it all down on her. She reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly,

“You’re getting a hard time?”

“From everyone except Zoey.” Abbey replied, as she glanced in the direction of the shadows where she knew her daughter was stood with Donna, keeping a discreet eye on, but not infringing on the reunion. “What about you?”

“Toby’s apoplectic.” CJ confirmed, “Leo started off raging but seems to have worn down to concerned father status. And Charlie’s clearly lost all respect for me of course but that’s to be expected.” She didn’t mention her various run-ins with Abbey’s husband, figuring she’d probably had enough of those of her own.

“What about Sam? And Josh?”

On hearing the question CJ smiled in spite of herself. “Not so much. In fact if anything, they’re the ones having a 'hard' time.” She caught Abbey’s questioning look so explained, “Little boys apparently like lesbian toys.”

Abbey laughed too then, although there were still tears in her eyes, “That figures. As I recall Jed was pretty keen on the idea of girl on girl action in the past too. Now though,” she added, “he’s less keen.”

“That’s to be expected.” CJ said gently, again squeezing Abbey’s hand reassuringly. They sat in silence for a few moments, sobered by the reminder of the state of Abbey’s marriage, and their worlds generally. As the silence continued, CJ realized that Abbey was looking at her, a bemused half smile on her face.

She looked at her curiously, “What?”

Abbey blushed, looking embarrassed, “Why is it that we’re in Hell; I’ve broken my husband’s heart, devastated my daughters, and yet, when I’m with you all I can think about, is how much I want to kiss you?”

CJ wasn’t shocked. As they’d sat in the moonlight, hand in hand, the thought had crossed her mind too; she just hadn’t acted, or commented on it because it hadn’t felt appropriate to do so. She reached out with her free hand and stroked Abbey’s cheek,

“You can’t sweetheart.”

“Why not?” Abbey bit her lip, fighting back tears, “Everyone knows; what harm can it do?”

“If you truly believed that,” CJ said gently, “you would have done it by now.”

She meant every word she said, genuinely believed it was the case, but almost instantly she realized that she’d made a mistake, and that Abbey wouldn’t take it as it was meant, instead seeing it as some kind of dare.

“Is that so?” Abbey glanced over at Zoey once again, and seeing that she’d retreated further still into the shadows she moved closer to CJ, brushing her lips against hers.

To CJ’s horror, it was just like the first time, all shooting stars and fireworks. Wrong maybe, but in the face of that how could she possibly resist?

X X X

Toby had spent the majority of the evening in his office. For one, it kept him away from Sam and Josh who were driving him to distraction with their school boy antics, and, more importantly, it meant he could avoid crossing paths with CJ, who he’d have been quite happy if he’d never had to see again.

He didn’t know why he was so angry with her; couldn’t pinpoint the precise reason, he just knew that he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her. It wasn’t just that she’d betrayed the President and turned their election campaign upside down. He was angry with her for that, yes, but there was more to it. He knew he’d still have been pissed at her if the other woman wasn’t the First Lady; the fact they were even talking in terms of ‘other women’ infuriated him.

It wasn’t that he was homophobic. He’d known some very nice gay people. Friends of Andie’s mainly, but they’d been very nice. If she had to be a lesbian it wasn’t the end of the world. But he hated the fact she hadn’t told him. They were meant to be friends after all, but even beyond that, purely from a professional perspective he felt she should have kept him in the loop. He’d brought her on board, and hers was a high profile, front facing role.

You couldn’t have a dyke as the face of the President. Could you?

Just as he was pondering that question – not for the first time during the course of the evening – his computer signaled he had email. He glanced at his inbox, feeling his stomach lurch.

It was the email they’d been waiting for.

Advanced copy from The Times.

He took a deep breath; clicked to open the attachment.

“Oh for crying out loud!”

His words brought Sam and Josh running, as they guessed what had prompted them.

“The story?” Sam asked, dashing into the room, “What’s it like?” He took in Toby’s ashen face, immediately getting his answer. “That bad?” he asked quietly, “What is it?” He thought back to his conversation with CJ, “They didn’t get the whips did they?”

Josh glared at Sam, “We weren’t meant to mention those to anyone.”

It didn’t matter. Toby hadn’t heard a thing, too stunned by what he had on the screen in front of him. He stared at it for a long time and then slowly turned the monitor to face the others, before printing a copy off for himself.

Sam reacted first, with a low whistle, “Shit. No whips.”

Josh sighed, “Who needs whips? They’re not exactly essential when you can bring down the President with a ‘look’ is it? How the hell do we react to this Toby?”

Toby picked up the copy, fresh from the printer, looking down at it, taking in all its component parts; the full page photo – a close up of star-crossed lovers staring into one another’s eyes, CJ’s hand caressing the neck of the First Lady who blatantly and quite obviously couldn’t tear her eyes away from her. You couldn’t see the rest of their bodies but you didn’t need to, their eyes alone did damage enough, especially coupled with the headline…

‘The Look of Love’.

He tossed it down onto the desk again, raging inside, furious with CJ for getting herself into the mess in the first place. Not to mention the mess she’d got the rest of them into.

He glared at her photo angrily, as if that would make her aware of his feelings, and then looked back up at the other two again,

“I don’t think it’s our reaction we need to worry about do you?”

X X X

The photo had been taken just the week before. It was the one Danny was least, and yet most proud of for a variety of reasons. On the positive, he knew it would be a key note in his career, coupled as it was with the story of the century. Yet on the negative, it was a betrayal of his friendship with CJ, and then there was the dubious nature in which he’d obtained it.

Tapping her phone had never been part of the plan. But he was covering the story alone, not trusting anyone else enough to share it with them, and he couldn’t stake her out 24 hours a day. His contact in The White House told him what he could, but even he had to have a day off.

The call had come through at 4am one morning. From the way she answered the phone CJ had clearly been sleeping, but a teary First Lady soon got her out of bed, into her car, and driving to a park, deserted because of the time of day, to meet her.

Even the hard nosed reporter in him couldn’t have missed the romanticism of the moment, as they met by the lake, in the cold early light of day, embracing like their lives depended on it.

It was like something out of Casablanca.

CJ had used a gentle hand on the First Lady’s neck to tilt her head slightly, kissing the tears from her cheek. He’d zoomed in, right in, on their faces immediately after that and clicked the shutter.

And that was when he knew his angle had changed.

It wasn’t a sensationalist piece about sex anymore.

It was a story about love.

X X X

Outside, unaware of the furor raging inside, Donna found herself in the somewhat unique position of being huddled by a bush with one of the first daughters, watching the First Lady make out with a former White House Staffer.

“Doesn’t this bother you?” She asked Zoey, who shook her head in response,

“No, not really. I knew I wasn’t bringing my mom out here to play Scrabble.” In truth though, she did find it a little unsettling, knowing that her father would kill her if he ever found out, and plus – it was her mom, and CJ, and as understanding she was about the scenario she didn’t exactly want it served up on a plate in front of her.

“What if someone comes out though?” Donna asked, “It’ll make things worse for both of them.”

Zoey saw her point, but wasn’t entirely sure that things could get any worse. Besides which, as she pointed out to Donna in response, “Do you want to go over there and break up the party?”

It was Donna’s turn to shake her head then, “Not particularly. Perhaps they’ll stop soon.” She added hopefully, “I mean neither of them is stupid.”

Considering that having been caught out once, they’d apparently picked up where they’d left off at the first opportunity, Zoey wasn’t entirely sure that was true. But then taking into account it was highly likely that they might never see each other again she wasn’t entirely surprised either. If she’d have been her mom, she might just have done the same.

X X X

“Mr President?”

Leo was stood awkwardly in The Oval Office, watching the President stare down at the front page they’d been sent. He’d gone in alone, wanting to give him a bit of dignity, not wanting him to have to see the photo for the first time in front of his staff.

“You’re my oldest friend.” He said, when he finally spoke, “My life is in turmoil, could you not just this once call me Jed?”

Leo nodded, “Of course. Are you ok?” He asked cautiously, aware what a ridiculous question it was.

Jed just shrugged, “Danny Conannon saved the best til last here didn’t he?”

“He did that.” Leo confirmed, “Jed, I hate to push you on this, but the phones are ringing. We need to say something. What exactly do you want us to say?”

He glanced down at the photo again, “They aren’t going to accept ‘No Comment’ eh?” It was a rhetorical question requiring no answer and they both knew it. He got to his feet, “Let me talk to Abbey. We’ll have a response for you within the hour.”

X X X


	18. Chapter 18

“Right.” Leo said, walking into the Communications Office where Toby, Sam and Josh were all looking slightly terrified at the multitude of ringing phones that surrounded them, “This is easy. You answer the phones and tell the callers that this is personal matter, between the President and First Lady and that The White House doesn't comment on personal matters.”

They all stared at him, waiting for what would come next; hoping against all hope that his plan didn't end there. It sounded reasonable in theory, but they knew it wouldn't hold in practice. No one was going to take “no comment” for an answer in the face of The Times story.

Leo however, remained silent, prompting Toby to ask, “And if pushed for something more?” Leo considered this, knowing full well that it was the right question to ask, “Tell 'em we'll give a press briefing at 8.30am.”

Another simple sweeping statement with more serious ramifications.

“Who exactly is going to give that briefing?” Sam asked, echoing the question he knew their callers would be asking, “We're not exactly going to put CJ out there are we?”

“We should.” Toby muttered, “Let the vultures at her. Might give her a lesson in how to behave.”

Leo looked at him sharply, “I don't want to hear a further comment on CJ's behaviour out of this office. This is not a time for personal comment.” he pointed out, mindful of the effect such a comment could have, not least on their election chances, “Anything we say could be seized on by voters. We don't want to alienate the gay community.”

“Little chance of that.” Toby snorted, “Not now we have the First Lady as lesbian poster girl. In fact,” he added, real contempt in his voice, “Maybe we could tell people that's what FLOTUS stands for; First Lesbian Of The United States. That ought to get us some pink votes. If we want them.”

“Enough.” Leo finally snapped, turning on Toby furiously, feeling protective of Abbey in spite of everything. They went back a long way after all. “My office. Now.” He turned to Sam and Josh, “You'll have to handle things here. And if they ask who's doing the briefing fob them off, because right now I don't have a clue.”

X X X

One of advantages of being part of the First Family was that it was never hard to find the other members when you wanted them. No matter where they were hiding, someone from your Secret Service Detail generally knew where they were. And it was that fact that Jed was finding slightly ironic as he made his way to The Rose Garden to confront Abbey.

This – whatever he was meant to call it – fling, although even that seemed like the wrong word considering the photo The Times was carrying, had been going on for weeks. Across several states by all accounts. And no one had told him – not Abbey's detail, who must have known every last little thing, or his own, who must have known too. There was no way it had not been discussed in the Secret Service locker room.

It made him question what else he didn't know about his family.

As he reached The Rose Garden though, he pushed the thoughts out of his mind – or tried to – this wasn't a huge government conspiracy, perpetuated against him in a treason like manner. This was just his wife acting out because she felt neglected. That said, he could have been forgiven for thinking it was the former rather than the latter, as he stood in the shadows watching Abbey holding CJ's hands tightly, as his daughter, the Assistant to his Deputy Chief of Staff, and several Secret Service Agents just looked on.

He wanted to break into the scene, rip their hands apart and reclaim her as his own. But at the same time he knew he couldn't. He had to see how the scene was going to unfold. And so he stood there, watched and waited.

X X X

“What will you do now?” Abbey asked softly, stroking CJ's hands with her finger tips.

CJ sighed, “Go home, batten down the hatches, wait for the storm to pass while having to explain to my dad 18 or 19 times a day why he has the worlds press camped out on his front lawn calling his daughter a lesbian.” A tear slid down her cheek, her heart breaking at the thought of her sick father being subjected to a storm that she knew he'd struggle to understand. It would be the worst part of her punishment she thought, and she wasn't even going to bear the brunt of it.

Feeling bad for her, Abbey reached out and hugged her, cuddling her tightly, planting kisses in her hair. “It'll be OK.” she said softly, although she knew it would be nothing of the sort, not for CJ and not for her dad, but she had to say something reassuring, even if it was a lie, “It'll all work out in the end.”

“Yes, but work out how?”

The question came, not from CJ, but from Jed, who had moved from his place in the dark to join them at their bench. He didn't sound angry any more, just world weary and tired. He glanced at Abbey, “We need to talk. But first,” he beckoned Donna and Zoey over, “we need rid of these little co-conspirators. These Judas'.”

Both the girls were ashen, with Zoey being near to tears as she went to his side, “Dad, I'm sorry. I just thought -”

Seeing her tears, Jed softened, pulling her to him, “I was teasing sweetheart. I know you were just looking out for your mother.” Smelling the cigarette smoke on her he looked at her questioningly, “Bum your old man a smoke and I'll forgive you.”

Zoey smiled through her tears, pulling away from him and heading over to her Secret Service Agents, returning seconds later with a cigarette that she pushed into his hand, “Don't be cross with Donna either. I used my influence. Made her do it.”

He waved them away, “Go now, and I'll say nothing else about it.” He watched them go to leave, only speaking again when he saw CJ move to join them, “Not you. You're coming back to the residence. When I said 'we' needed to talk, I meant all three of us.”

X X X

Leo and Toby had clashed heads on more than one occasion since the Barlet administration had been in office. They were both headstrong and were passionate about their own viewpoint, but usually, with a little compromise they'd been able to work through it.

Not so that night.

On opposite sides of the desk in Leo's office, their view points couldn't have been more different. And neither was prepared to give an inch.

“I don't understand,” Toby raged, “how you can be so forgiving about this? How can you defend her?”

“Her?” Leo said questioningly, getting to his feet to pour drinks for the two of them, “Do you mean CJ or the First Lady?”

“CJ” Came the spat reply, “She's the one who should have known better. Mrs Barlet has always been a loose cannon. CJ's the one who should have thought twice; before she did this; before she even took the job. She's not stupid. She should have known that someone like her couldn't do it.”

Leo placed one of the glasses infront of Toby before drinking from the other, “Someone like her? Careful Toby, you're sounding like a bigot.”

“It's not bigotry, it's being a realist.” Toby snapped back, “A Press Secretary needs to be a Paragon of Virtue. Above contempt. You can't be the face of The White House and have a messy personal life. It was never going to work, and CJ should have known that.”

“I see.” Leo took his seat again, “So your problem is with CJ and the fact that she knew she was a lesbian when she accepted the position.” Toby nodded, and Leo sighed, shaking his head tiredly, “Toby, if you'd actually spoken to her since all this had kicked off you'd know what I do. CJ couldn't have told you she was gay 4 years ago because she didn't know. In fact,” he added, remembering the rambling story of 'Jackal' action CJ had told him in the same office hours before, and how it had been so badly contradicted by the photo that The Times had chosen to use, “she still doesn't. CJ's incredibly mixed up Toby, and that's why she doesn't need our anger, she needs our support.”

X X X

He wasn't about to make it easy on them. He made them wait in a deathly silence of anticipation and dread as he smoked his cigarette, and then as they walked back to the residence. He knew they hated it, could sense the worried glances they exchanged behind his back, but he considered it to be a punishment to fit the crime. What was a difficult few minutes silence compared to what they'd done.

It was more than just a punishment for them though. It was also a necessity because he wasn't willing to have 'the conversation' in front of anyone else but them. Didn't want Secret Service knowing what was about to unfold.

And so, he didn't speak until they were behind closed doors, when he'd led them into the drawing room in the residence and shut the doors on the rest of the world. And when he did, it was to question the seating arrangements.

“You don't want to sit next to Abigail?” He asked CJ, “Because I don't think I can face being that close to her right now.” He waited, but CJ didn't move, just stayed sat in an armchair while Abbey remained on the couch. He shrugged and then moving to stand in front of the fire continued.

“Firstly, Claudia-Jean,” he said, “I want you to know your father will be taken care of. I'll have him moved to a secure location where the press can't bother him.” He paused, registering her surprise, not to mention Abbey's. “He's an old man, and none of this is his fault.” He added by way of an explanation, “I'll make sure he's well looked after. Don't worry about that.”

CJ smiled weakly, but her gratitude was clear, “Mr President, thank you. I'm so grateful to you.”

He shrugged again, “Don't be. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this it for him. And another thing, Claudia, no more 'Mr President' please. That implies respect, and I think that respect has already been cancelled out by you sleeping with my wife. Now,” he switched his gaze over to Abbey, “you said it'll all work out OK in the end. Would you care to tell me how?” He looked at her questioningly, “Because I'll make it work if you want it to. I'll walk out into the briefing room in the morning with my arm wrapped around you, I'll tell the world that I'm standing by you, and dropping out of the race to boot,” he didn't wait for comment before he ploughed on, knowing that if stopped now he might not be able to start again, “and Claudia-Jean can sit at home crying into her copy of pink paper, and maybe some day some nice lady with a shaved head and dungarees will come along to make her smile again, and we'll all live happily ever after. The End." He added the last two words with more than a hint of sarcasm. "But I don't think there's any point in any of that happening if its not what you want, and, before you answer, and tell me it is, I'd like you to explain,” He took the folded up Times cover from his pocket and laid in on the coffee table in front of her, “what the hell this is?!”

XXX


	19. Chapter 19

Josh was on the phone when Donna arrived back, tail between her legs, looking guilty as sin. She lurked at his side, watching him wrangling, unsuccessfully, with the journalist on the other end, refusing to leave even though he was obviously busy and phones were ringing all around them.

When he eventually hung up, he looked at her questioningly, “Have you developed a selective hearing disorder which means you can’t hear telephones?”

She bit her bottom lip, fighting back tears, “I did something dumb. I took CJ to meet up with Mrs Bartlet, and The President turned up and now I’ll probably get fired or something.”

“Oh for gods sake,” Josh groaned, rolling his eyes, “when I told you to take her for a ‘muffin’ that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” He sighed, as next to him, the phone started shrieking again, “But just forget about it and answer the phone…”

X X X

Over in residence, Jed’s outburst, followed so quickly by the production of the photograph had rendered both Abbey and CJ completely speechless. It was only when CJ realized the implications of the story and jumped to Abbey’s defence that the stunned silence was broken.

“They’ve taken this out of context; its not how looks. Abbey was upset and I was comforting her. It isn’t what it looks like. It isn't what they're calling it. It's not a look of love.” It pained her to say it, because she knew full well that the camera didn’t lie, and that was precisely what it was, but she knew she had to try to protect Abbey.

Jed didn’t argue, instead just looking over at his wife, “What were you upset about? Why didn’t you come to me? Was I not home?”

Abbey shook her head slowly, tears in her eyes, “You were. You were down in The Oval.”

“And what? Is there a ‘Keep Out FLOTUS’ sign on the door that no one told me about?” He started pacing the room, anything to avoid actually looking at her, “God damn it Abigail, I’m your husband, since when did you stop coming to me when you’re upset?!”

Abbey saw CJ open her mouth to once again try and save her, but she knew she couldn’t let her. She had to tell the truth and to hell with the consequences,

“Since I realized I was in love with someone else.”

X X X

A Week Earlier

“I need to see you. Please.” She was sat in bed in her pyjamas, tears streaming down her cheeks, completely inconsolable. She knew Jed was on the premises, could walk through the door at any minute but she’d reached the point where she’d no longer cared. All she wanted was CJ.

“Ok, of course.” On the other end of the phone, her lover, who had previously sounded half asleep, was suddenly fraught, “What’s wrong Abbey? What happened? Does he know?”

“No.” She replied quickly, wanting to reassure CJ, although in truth thinking that deep down Jed ‘knowing’ might not be the worst thing in the world. At least it might get them out of the mess they seemed to have gotten themselves into, “I just need to see you Claud. Please?”

“I said Ok.” CJ said softly, “But you’re scaring the living daylights out of me lady.”

Abbey said nothing. What could she say? She was scaring herself too.

X X X

“What’s all this about?”

They were sat on the edge of the lake, Abbey’s tears gradually subsiding as CJ held her in her arms, rubbing her back gently to soothe her. She was less concerned now she’d seen that the other woman was in one piece, but the constant tears were still rattling her nerves. She felt Abbey’s arms grip her more tightly, and then finally she spoke.

“I was sat in bed tonight, counting the minutes until I saw you again. Actually, that’s not completely accurate. I was counting the seconds. And,” she started to cry again, “I felt physically sick at how many seconds it was. I can’t handle this Claud. I can’t handle feeling like this. I feel like a love struck teenager. I love you.” She looked away as she spoke the words, dreading CJ’s reaction. “I’m completely in love with you.”

CJ said nothing, lost for words, instead she just gathered her into her arms, rocking her back and forth as she tried to come to terms with what she’d just heard. She’d known virtually from the start that their relationship was much more than a one night stand, but this – a confession of love – was a whole new ball game.

A whole new ball game that nothing could come of.

“Abbey,” she whispered softly, stroking her hair, “you can’t say that.” It broke her heart to think it, let alone say it, but it was true, there was no denying that. “You absolutely one hundred percent can’t say that.”

Abbey just shrugged, pouting the pout that was now familiar to CJ, the reaction she received every time Abbey didn't get her own way, “I just did.”

An awkward silence hung in the air between them. On one hand CJ was blown away by the strength of Abbey's feelings; it meant the world to her, but at the same time, how could she possibly respond? Since the beginning they'd blocked out the rest of the world, only thought about themselves. And that had been fine when it was all illicit kisses and secret sex.

But love?

“How do you see this working?” CJ asked gently, turning the never ending stream of questions in her brain over to Abbey to answer, “You have a husband. You're one half of the most famous couple in the world. Being with me, loving me, is turning your back on him. On that.”

Abbey sighed, wrapping her arms around herself tightly, the pout still firmly in place. “He doesn't make me happy. You do. You know you do.”

“Right. Fine.” CJ got to her feet, exasperated with Abbey for completely missing the point, for making it all seem so simple, “So what? You move out of The White House and into my apartment. You really think that's going to work? Because I'm really looking forward to cramming your entire Secret Service detail into my closet. This can't work, and you have to know that deep down.”

If her words sunk in for Abbey at all, it didn't show; she carried on regardless, her head firmly lodged in the clouds, “We'll make it work. We have to.” She looked up at CJ, tears twinkling in her eyes again, “We can be together. More than that, we have to be.”

X X X

Moving to the drinks cabinet, Jed poured himself a large drink, before turning to CJ, “You see the thing is here – no matter what's going on between you, you don't know my wife as well as I know her, and I could have warned you, that in spite of outward appearances, she's not terribly practical. With Abbey its all about one thing and one thing only.” He glanced over to the sofa where Abbey was sat listening, looking pale and tired, “It's about Abbey's heart. When Abbey falls, she falls hard, and all good sense goes out of the window.”

Abbey sighed, “If you're expecting me to defend myself, forget it. Its true. We all know that.”

“Right then.” Jed said, once again addressing his words to CJ, “Its going to be up to you and me to work out what happens now. A practical solution. Not a hearts and flowers one.” He knocked back his drink, “What did you decide on, that morning in the park?”

It was Abbey that answered, “She bullied me into a compromise. Gave me an ultimatum basically. We'd forget the conversation ever happened or else she'd end it.” There was a hint of bitterness, and childlike self pity in her voice that was impossible to miss, and yet, while CJ quietly accepted it, Jed was quick to reprimand her.

“She was being cruel to be kind. Thinking responsibly. Finally.” He looked over at CJ, “Thank you for trying to save my wife from herself, but, it appears its too late. You may be capable of 'forgetting' that morning, but the rest of the world won't. Not now they've seen this.” He added, nodding to the newspaper proof on the coffee table. “So, what is our next move Claudia Jean? You are,” he hastily corrected himself, “were, the Queen of the Press Room. A manipulator. A strategist. How do we salvage lives out of this mess?”

There was a long, incredibly long, incredibly painful silence and then CJ finally managed to force out the only words she could.

“Sir, we have to go with plan A. Your plan.” Across the room she could hear Abbey, who had worked out where she was headed, start to cry, but she carried on, desperately trying to block out the sound of her distraught sobs, “I leave. And you, you pick up the pieces of your marriage.” She looked up at him, and as she did, she realised from the fact that he was all blurry that she was crying too, “But Sir, promise me you'll look after her. Please? I won't be able to live with myself otherwise.”

X X X


	20. Chapter 20

“This is Hell.” Josh declared to no one in particular, as he ended a call with a particularly obstinate journalist, “This is lesbian induced media Hell.” His phone started to ring again before he’d even finished his sentence, but he ignored it, instead continuing to address the rest of the room, “This is going to be all over everything. No place on the TV networks is going to be Abbey and CJ free. I wouldn’t be surprised if even the Disney Channel was carrying an animated version of their love story by this time tomorrow. This is a complete nightmare.”

“I did try to tell you that.” Toby retorted pointedly, “But you, like everyone else here, just carried on defending her. You didn’t take into account what work this was going to cause. You didn’t take into account what it would do to the campaign. And,” he added, indicating a nearby TV screen, “you didn’t take into account this…”

“What’s that?” The question came not from Josh, but from CJ, returning from the residence to pick up her things, looking like she might burst into tears at any moment. Tiredly she moved over to where Toby was standing, wanting to see what in particular had piqued his interest. She stared numbly at the screen, at the crowd of people gathering outside the White House gates, trying to work out what she was looking at, “What is this?”

“Those ones,” Toby pointed at one half of the group, who appeared to be carrying placards, “are the Christian right, who don’t think it’s acceptable to have a dyke,” he spat the word, “as First Lady.”

If the ‘dyke’ hurt, CJ didn’t let it show. She had bigger problems than Toby hating her anyway. She was sad she’d lost his friendship, but she’d lost a lot more than that in the past few hours; she’d lost her Abbey. Instead, she turned her attention to the other half of the crowd, which mainly consisted, as far as she could see, of women, “And who are they?”

“I think those are other lesbians.” Donna said, having ended her most recent phone conversation and craftily left her phone off the hook. She placed her arm around CJ’s shoulder, “According to the news reports they’ve come to show their support for you, and Mrs Bartlet. So, that’s nice eh?”

CJ nodded in agreement, although in truth she was finding the whole thing so surreal that she didn’t know if it was nice or not. And on the topic of surreal…

“So,” she peered at the screen again, “who are those tall women in suits?”

Sam, who had followed Donna’s lead and come to join them, started to laugh in spite of himself, “CJ, I think they might be men in drag.”

She looked at him quizzically, “Right, and why are they here?” She again looked at the TV, looking more closely at the men in question, “And why do they have my hair?”

Sam laughed again, ignoring the death stares he was getting from Toby for finding hilarity in the situation, “I think they might be pretending to be you; a flattery thing. You’re clearly some kind of icon now.”

“Clearly.” CJ said with a sigh, wondering where along the way the entire world had gone so completely mad as to leave The White House, the power house of world politics under siege from bible bashers, lesbians looking for a date and men in dresses. Could one relationship really do so much damage? “It’s a whole new world out there,” She observed, before adding, somewhat reluctantly, “and one I have to go into.” She looked around her former colleagues, “I just came to say goodbye.”

“Not before time.” Toby muttered, before shuffling into his office, not looking back. Donna made to go after him, dead set on dragging him out again, but CJ grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Leave him.” She murmured, “There’s no point.” She pulled the other woman into a hug, “But as for you, thank you for what you did for me today. It meant so much. It meant I got to say goodbye, and that meant the world.”

“Oh CJ,” Donna looked at her sadly, “Is it really over between you?”

CJ nodded, “It had to be.” She turned to Josh and Sam, trying her best to sound as if it was business as usual, “You need to arrange an interview, or a press conference for the morning. If you go with the former, a softly softly interviewer; no hard balls; Oprah probably, and if you go with the latter, it needs to be a statement only, no questions.”

“And what’s this statement going to say?” Sam asked gently, seeing that CJ was near to tears.

She shrugged, “Precise wording to come from President Bartlet himself, but in a nutshell, it needs to be made clear that he and Mrs Bartlet are committed both to healing the wounds in their marriage, and to each other and that he urges the media to give them the time and space to do that.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and Donna stepped forward to hug her but she shook her head, “No Donna, don’t.” she moved towards her office, blinded by tears, “I’m sorry, I just have to get out of here.”

X X X

For a long time after CJ left, Jed and Abbey sat in a silence, which was only punctuated by Abbey’s sobs, and once they came to an end, by nothing at all. They both knew there was plenty still to be said, but neither of them wanted to open the can of worms that they knew any further conversation would be.

In the end, it was Abbey, tortured by the never ending silence, who spoke,

“What now?”

Jed looked at her, wondering how she had the cheek to ask him for answers, considering the way she’d just shattered his world. All the same, he glanced down at his watch, and then back up at her, “You should sleep. You’re going to need all the strength you’ve got tomorrow.”

“You expect me to sleep?” Her words came out with more venom than she meant or expected them to, “We have all this going on and you expect me to nod off just like,” she clicked her fingers, “that.”

“There’s nothing going on.” He reminded her firmly, “Your lover is out of your life. You’re stuck with me; with our marriage. Life is going back to normal Abigail and the sooner you come to terms with that the better.”

“And is that a Presidential order?” Her response came on the defensive, snapped at him before she really had time to think, a direct response to his comment about CJ being gone. It was only after she said it, that the rest of his words actually sunk in for her. “I’m sorry.” She said, as guilt over how she’d treated him began to conflict with the anguish she felt over CJ’s departure, “I’m not stuck with you. And Jed, I do still love you.”

“You just love her more.”

His words hung between them awkwardly as no confirmation or denial came. He allowed a few moments silence, inwardly praying for her to say something, to try and convince him it wasn’t true, and then, when she didn’t, he again urged her to go to bed.

She sighed, getting to her feet, “Are you coming with me?” She knew it was a big ask, and in many ways completely unlikely, and so she was surprised when he nodded tiredly.

“I’ll be there in a minute. I just need to speak to Leo. He needs to know I’m dropping out of the race.”

Abbey shook her head, “No. You shouldn’t.” She instantly saw his surprise at her words etched on his face, and she understood the reasons why; they’d come as a surprise to her too. But there were reasons for them. “You’ll only end up resenting me.” She explained, “And I don’t think our marriage can cope with any more resentment right now.” She forced a smile, “You have my blessing. Just remember to come to bed occasionally. Please.”

He looked at her for a long time, “Do you just want me out of the way so you can run all over town with whichever lady you find to replace Claudia Jean? Is that the real reason for this?”

“No.” She said, without hesitation, and then with brutal honesty added, “CJ is irreplaceable.” She smiled weakly, but more genuinely, “As are you. The American people deserve a second term from you Jed, I can’t deny them that.”

“Thank you.” Jed said slowly, still coming to terms with her decision, “But what if the American people don’t want an adulterous First Lady as part of the package?”

Abbey sighed – the thought had crossed her mind too, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

X X X


	21. Chapter 21

**Election Night, 2002**

“Did you win it girl?”

CJ poked at her pork mushu despondently, trying to keep her patience with her father who was sat in his rocking chair by the window, looking out onto the street. He’d been asking the same question for most of the day, at varied intervals, and each time she’d given him the same answer.

“Don’t know yet dad.”

She didn’t bother to correct him, to remind him that her input to the Presidential Race had been limited to gaining votes for the Republicans as a result of the scandal surrounding her affair with the First Lady. It didn’t seem necessary to bother him with details he wouldn’t remember anyway.

She put her takeaway carton to one side, pulling her blanket round herself, sighing as on the television yet another pundit referred to the now infamous ‘CJgate’. She didn’t know how the public felt, but she was bored of hearing it. It seemed to her that no sooner had the initial fever surrounding her and Abbey’s relationship had died down, the Election had whipped it all back up again. People had talked of nothing else for months.

She’d been pissed off when she’d first heard that the President was running again, convinced that after all that had happened he’d drop out of the race and concentrate on Abbey. As far as she was concerned, he’d done a complete u-turn on his promise to look after her, but then, she’d spoken to Leo and he’d assured her that the decision had been Abbey’s and so she’d had to climb down and accept that it was going to happen whether she liked it or not.

Of course for a long time, it looked like his chances of reelection were slim. The Republicans were ripping chunks out of the First Couple, although Abbey mainly; with several leading Democrats giving it a good go as well. The media were still going crazy and ‘First Lesbian of the United States of America’ was the punchline to nearly every joke on every TV show. No one cared about Bartlet’s record or policies, just that his wife was a dyke, and ha bloody ha, wasn’t that funny.

But as CJ was the first to admit, his campaign team put on a pretty impressive show of turning it all around. Every time she opened a paper she was greeted by another ‘money shot’, vote shot she supposed they should be called.

The entire Bartlet family at church together in Manchester.  
Abbey shopping with her daughters and granddaughter.  
Abbey sat at the side of the stage at a rally, unable to take her eyes off of Jed.  
Jed and Abbey dancing at a function, staring deep into one another’s eyes.

It wasn’t particularly subtle but it did what was needed; presenting the First Couple as one reunited and painting Abbey as a dedicated and devoted wife and mother. Sure, the race was still a closer run thing than it would have been without ‘CJgate’, but the team had definitely leveled the playing field.

And while all this was going on, CJ hid herself away. She contemplated looking for work at first, but nothing particularly attractive presented itself to her; mainly offers consisting of the chance to tell her side of the story in various articles and book deals, and in the case of Playboy to get her kit off and be licked by Playboy bunnies.

She declined. Vociferously. Moved her dad from the safe house the President had placed him in, which was quickly discovered by the press, to a new one, gave up her apartment and settled down to look after him.

It wasn’t what she was used to; and they ate a lot of takeaways, but it got her out of DC and that was what she needed.

Of course, she missed Abbey. She missed Abbey every minute of every day but there was precious little she could do about that. She had to move on.

She was distracted by her thoughts by a flurry of activity on the television, as a shot of The White House Ballroom flashed up on screen. Lyle Johnson, Bartlet’s new Press Secretary was stood on the podium. He was not an attractive looking man, with squinty eyed and a wonky shaped nose; clearly the President hadn’t been taking any chances when he hired her replacement.

And then it came. The announcement they’d all been waiting for.

Ritchie had conceded; President Josiah Bartlet was the next President of the United States of America. Dyke wife or not.

On television the crowd went wild, but CJ just felt sick. Not on her own behalf. She was relieved for herself; relieved that she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of bringing down the Bartlet administration and denying them a second term, but for Abbey…

4 more years of being stuck in that house she hated.

In all the time since she’d walked out of The White House for the last time, she’d never wanted to pick up her phone and call Abbey more than she did in that moment. Wanted to sympathize with her; comfort her.

Still, she quickly realized, placing that call would be pointless. Abbey would be more than a little tied up right now…

Right on cue, Lyle announced The President, and as he came on stage she saw Abbey beside him, clutching his hand and smiling the smile that CJ knew she only put on when she wanted to cry. She looked beautiful, in a stunning blue suit, but CJ knew she was dying inside, and it hurt.

Hurt so much she wanted to turn the TV off, didn’t want to have to look at her for another second, but as Zoey, Elizabeth and Ellie joined their parents on stage, she found herself transfixed, wanting to know in spite of herself how this scene would pan out.

As it happened, the President kept it short, to the point.

“I want to thank the party, I want to thank my family, I want to thank my wife,” He punctuated his sentence with a brief kiss, brushing his lips against Abbey’s, “And most of all I want to thank the people of America. It’s good to be back! Now let’s get back to work!”

CJ, still reeling from the kiss took a deep breath, trying to stop herself from crying. She couldn’t. Not in front of her dad. Once she was convinced her emotions were under control she turned to him.

“Dad?”

He looked at her blankly, “Did you win it girl?”

She sighed, “Yeah dad, we won it.” It was lie, but what was the point in telling him that in actual fact she’d won nothing at all.

Instead she’d lost everything.

X X X

“Liz? Ellie?” Abbey called hesitantly to her daughters as they stepped down from the podium, and behind the privacy of a screened off area nearby, “We thought we’d have champagne in the residence. Just family. Will you join us?”

Blanking Abbey, Ellie looked straight at her father, “Will SHE be there?” she nodded frostily in Abbey’s direction, “Because if so, no, I’m sorry dad I can’t. You know how I feel.”

“Me too.” Liz smiled sadly at her dad, “I’d be there for you but not for her.”

Zoey, hearing the whole exchange as she caught them up, groaned, “When are you two going to drop this? We are a family. Can we please just act like one?”

Liz shook her head obstinately, “We’re a family in public, for dad, for his career. The rest of the time, forget it Zoey. We don’t all have your blatant disregard for the sanctity of marriage. Or hers for that matter.”

Seeing how crestfallen her mum looked, and knowing she wasn’t going to win the battle with her sisters she turned to her parents, “Well, lets not let them ruin tonight eh? Why don’t we invite senior staff up? We can celebrate with them instead; they’re the ones that did all the work.”

Ellie snorted, “I didn’t see them lining up to stand next to my slut mother in a house of God.”

Familiar with, and tired of the endless debates, Jed shook his head, “I’m worn out,” he told Zoey, “I might just head to bed, if it’s all the same to you.”

At his side, Abbey looked at him worriedly, “Jed? Are you sick?”

He shrugged, “Sick, yes. With MS? No. Of this battle, absolutely.” He looked around the group, “Goodnight Abigail, goodnight girls. Thank you for all your help.” He fixed his gaze on his two oldest daughters, “I’m sorry it’s been such a trial for you ladies, but I appreciated your input.”

As he walked away, Zoey once again turned on her sisters furiously, “Way to ruin dad’s big night guys!” She made to continue her tirade but Abbey, looking exhausted herself, silenced her,

“Darling, leave it. Come on, come shake some hands with me eh? Someone’s got to carry on smiling at the right people. They’re the ones who got us here…”

X X X

When the palm pressing was over Abbey took herself back to the residence, to Jed. She was still stinging from the comments from Liz, and Ellie too, even though after months of abuse punctuated only by the odd photo call she knew she ought to be used to it. Mind you, she was tired, and drained, and that always made her emotional.

And in some ways, her daughters were the least of her worries.

She’d long since become resigned to the idea of the second term. She still didn’t much care for it, but saw it as a necessary evil. She could hardly force Jed to give up his political career after the affair she’d had. But that didn’t mean she had to like the idea. It didn’t mean that tonight had to feel like a triumph to her.

Not that anyone really understood that. Zoey maybe, but Zoey had enough on her plate, getting over Charlie and walking the fine line of being a good daughter both to one parent and the other, so Abbey didn’t feel she could confide in her any further.

The person who would really get it of course was the one person she couldn’t see; couldn’t speak to; couldn’t contact at all. CJ. But there was no point on dwelling on that. CJ had made her decision when she’d walked away, and even though Abbey could see now that it was the only one available to her, to them, it didn’t stop her wishing things could have been different.

But they couldn’t be. So the time had come to move on.

She’d promised herself that tonight would be the night that she’d do that. If Jed was elected, she would use that night, and his success, to iron out the creases in their relationship. Get things back on track.

With that in mind, when she arrived at their room, where Jed was already in bed, going over what looked like an executive order, she smiled at him with a kind of smile that she hadn’t give him for some time.

“Hey Mr President,” she went over to her dressing room and quickly selected a white lace trimmed camisole that she knew was his favourite, “I’m just going for a shower, and then how about you put that aside and concentrate on giving me some executive orders?” She raised her eyes suggestively, praying that he wouldn’t shoot her down.

She was out of luck.

He shook his head, “Not tonight Abigail.”

Sighing she sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at him desperately, “Jed, please.” She reached for his hand, “We haven’t, well, you know, in so long. Since…” she didn’t need to spell out ‘since’ to him – they both knew all too well – they hadn’t been intimate since well before her affair with CJ, “Please, can we let tonight be a new beginning?”

He looked torn, and that alone gave her hope. At least he was thinking about it. Eventually he placed his paperwork on the bedside table and nodded, “Ok, why not…”

X X X

The answer to ‘why not’ came rather quickly. Basically in the time it took her to shower, climb into bed beside him, kiss him passionately and then ask him to undress her.

Oh, and for him to more or less shove her to the other side of the bed.

She looked at him through wide eyes, feeling herself trembling, more than a little scared by his reaction.

“What is it?” She asked quickly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

“It’s you.” He snapped, getting out of bed, and pacing the room, “Its you Abigail, acting all sexy. Dressing all sexy.” He added, indicating her outfit.

“You used to like that.” She pointed out quietly.

“Yeah,” he replied, “because it used to be for me. And yeah, you can say its for me tonight, and since there’s no one else here I’d have to believe you, but Abigail when you do it all I can imagine is you doing it for Claudia-Jean. Acting sexy for her.” His voice cracked and she could tell he was near to tears, “Being sexy for her. Doing sexual things.” He sounded like his heart was breaking and she knew exactly how he felt. She got to her feet to comfort him but he pushed her away.

“I keep seeing that god forsaken photo Abigail.”

She bit her lip, fighting back her own tears, remembering their first altercation in The Oval Office after the pictures had come to light, “The one where I was between her legs?”

A tear rolled down his cheek, as finally, for the first time in months, The President of the United States lost control of his emotions,

“No. The one where you were clearly deeply in love with her.”

X X X


	22. Chapter 22

There had been some difficult moments in Abbey’s life since her affair had been uncovered, but none came close to that night, lying in bed listening to her husband, the most powerful man in the world, cry himself to sleep. The worst thing was not being able to comfort him; she tried, but he wouldn’t let her get close to him.

It was torture.

Eventually, when the sound of his sobs subsided, and were finally replaced with gentle snores, she climbed out of bed, needing to get out of the room, unable to face a sleepless night, lying in the dark, with only her own guilt for company.

Replacing her revealing nightdress with her old college sweater and a comfy pair of pants she kissed Jed gently on the forehead, her heart sinking as she saw that his face was still damp with tears, and made her way downstairs, and across to the West Wing.

It was late; too late for the victory party to still be going, but she knew there was one place where she’d be guaranteed company.

She just hoped they wouldn’t mind her stopping by.

X X X

“I thought the girls did well tonight.” Donna said, biting into a slice of pizza. She was sprawled on Lyle’s couch, her legs resting on Josh’s lap. Lyle was sat at his own desk, beer in hand; Toby opposite him and Sam, who had drawn the short straw, was on the floor. As victory parties went, it wasn’t in the same league as the one in the ballroom, but they were enjoying themselves.

Lyle shrugged, “They could have hung around longer, but yeah, the smiles looked genuine enough.”

“Which is a miracle.” Donna replied, “Zoey says it’s been all out war every time our backs are turned.”

Sam looked perplexed, “I don’t know why. I’d have liked having a lesbian mom.”

Donna rolled her eyes, “You’re so obsessed with lesbians you'd have liked having a lesbian goldfish.” As the word left her mouth she found herself glancing at the empty spot on Lyle’s desk where Gail’s bowl used to stand, “I wonder if CJ saw the result.” She mused softly.

“I can’t see her having missed it.” Sam replied, “Look at how closely she’s been following the campaign. Speaking of which,” he looked up at Lyle, “she likes your work. I had an email from her yesterday.”

“You’ve heard from her? How is she?” The questions came from the doorway, where Abbey had appeared, clutching a bottle of Champagne, but in the instant she asked them she realized how inappropriate doing so had been and backtracked, “If I let you forget I asked that can I join your party?”

Donna got to her feet, ushering her into the room, ignoring the frosty look she received from Toby as a result, “Of course Mrs Bartlet. Come on in. Take a seat.” She added, giving up her own place and then perching on Josh’s lap, “What brings you down here?”

“Well,” Abbey looked round at the others nervously, wondering what kind of reception she’d get, “my husband is asleep, but I’m wired from the day. So I thought to myself where might I get warm beer and cold pizza at this time in the morning, and here I am. Is that ok with everyone?”

“You’re the First Lady.” Toby muttered, “We’re not about to argue.”

The others, wanting to make up for Toby’s coldness, immediately rallied round, providing Abbey with food and drink, trying to pretend that there wasn’t an issue. Abbey herself however decided to take the bull by the horns, and face said issue head on.

“Toby,” she said gently, once she’d got a beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other, “I know you’re angry with me. God knows, you all should be. I made this campaign hellish. But,” she added softly, “I want you to know I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. For getting Jed reelected. And I can only apologise for what happened. For me and CJ, and all the damage it did. I really am genuinely very sorry.”

Her candour and openness, which to that point they’d only ever seen during press conferences they’d scripted themselves, stunned the entire team, and they sat in silence for a moment, each trying to work out how to react. Abbey knew full well she’d shocked them, but said nothing more, just picked at her pizza, waiting for someone to respond.

In the end, it was Sam that spoke, smiling at her as he did so.

“Yes.” He said, a little hesitantly, “We have heard from her. Donna, Josh and I keep in touch. Leo too I think.”

Abbey gasped slightly, amazed that he was answering her earlier question, then holding her breath with anticipation, hoping that he might answer her second one.

He didn’t disappoint.

“And she’s fine Abbey. She misses you, but she’s fine.”


	23. Chapter 23

In the year or so since her relationship with Abbey had gone public, 'loss' was a concept CJ had become more than familiar with. The loss of the job that had basically been her world, the loss of her old life, even of her freedom in a way, being as she was tied to caring for her father, not to mention of course the loss of Abbey herself.

But nothing, not even Abbey, compared to this.

She sat by the empty hospital bed, knowing she should leave and go back to the house, knowing there was nothing more to stay for, but not being able to face it. She couldn't do it; couldn't walk into the living room and see her father's chair, the chair where he spent so many hours, without him in it. To do that would be to have to face it head on and admit to herself that he was gone.

The whole thing had happened so fast. Yesterday, she'd had a father; and yes, he'd been an empty shell of a man, a shadow of his former self; and yes, he'd driven her to distraction with the constant questions and his inability to remember from one moment to the next who she was but he'd still been there. She'd still had the illusion of having something resembling a family, even if it was a small one.

Now she was alone.

In a way, the speed with which she'd lost him made her glad that the last year of her life had panned out like it had. Had it not been for Abbey, and her resultant enforced resignation, she would never have had the time to spend with him. Probably would have just managed a few odd visits in between the endless phone calls, instead of the solid block of time they did have together.

Every cloud had a silver lining she supposed.

From behind her she heard one of the medical staff clearing their throat, and when she turned she saw her father's nurse holding out a brown bag of his belongings. She reached out and took it, but didn't look inside, knowing his glasses would be in there. She didn't like to think of him without his glasses. He wouldn't be able to see without them. Not that he to now, but that didn't change the way she felt. Instead she just clutched the bag to her chest and forced a smile, “Thank you.”

The nurse sat down beside her, her concern clear, “Miss Cregg, you've had a terrible shock. Is there somebody I can call for you?”

She said nothing at first, knowing her gut reaction, or rather the one that came straight from her heart, wasn't one she could share. She wanted Abbey; of course she wanted Abbey; there was no one in her life she felt as close to as her, even with the passing of time. But it wasn't only inappropriate but impossible. Even if Abbey wanted to come, and there was no saying she would now, she wouldn't be able to, even in this situation. It wouldn't be right for either of them, or Jed. It would stir up too many old emotions.

And so, she went to shake her head, thinking that there was no one else. Then she thought again, and realised she was being ridiculous. She wasn't completely alone, not really.

She turned to the nurse, giving her a weak smile, “Actually, yes, there is.”

X X X

“Mr President?” Leo stood at the door to The Oval Office, “Do you have a minute?”

The President nodded, and it was only when Leo moved into the room that he realised that they weren't alone. Abbey was in the outskirts of the room, looking irritable. It was nothing new. Leo, like most of the Senior Staffers was more than aware of the continued tension between the First Couple, no matter how much they managed to put on a brave face in public. It was clear that they were trying their hardest to make their relationship work, but punishing schedules and general awkwardness clearly got in the way. Leo never would have said anything, it wasn't his place to do so, but sometimes he wondered why they were bothering.

In any event, Abbey's presence on that particular day was an unwelcome one; he hadn't anticipated having to share the news he was bringing to Jed in front of her. However, seeing that she wasn't about to leave, and figuring she'd find out eventually anyway, he decided to continue.

“We've just heard that CJ's Cregg's father died this morning.” He directed the information to The President but it was hard to miss the way that Abbey paled at the news, “I thought you should know. since there may be some press. Donna Moss is flying up there today.” He said, again to the President, but more as a message to Abbey, knowing she'd need to hear it, “I gave her leave. Under the circumstances.”

“Absolutely.” Jed replied quietly, although his gaze was fixed on his wife, “Thank you Leo.” He added, making it clear that his presence was surplus to requirements. Not that he needed to. Leo was desperate to get out of there.

Once he'd gone the First Couple remained in an awkward silence, neither one wanting to invite the argument that they both knew was likely to come as a result of what they'd just been told. In the end though, it was Abbey who caved first.

“I have to go to the funeral.” She blurted out; knowing it was more than a little insensitive but in that second not caring. She'd lost her own parents, and knew full well she'd never have got through it without Jed at her side, and a year on or not, she assumed, maybe even hoped, that she was the closest thing CJ had to a Jed. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't up for debate.

As far as she was concerned maybe, but not her husband.

“Don't be so ridiculous Abigail.” His tone was that of patronising father to surly teenager, and as far as Abbey was concerned that was all it took to light the blue touch paper.

“You're not going to do this.” She said firmly, her voice taut with tension as she got closer and closer to exploding, “You are not going to make this about you. She's lost her father, and if you think for one minute that I'm going to let your bruised ego stand between me and a – friend” she stressed the word with all the emphasis she could, “in her hour of need then you can dream on. I'm going and nothing you say is going to stop me.”

“Stop it.” His words, full of anger, were coupled with his fist banging down on the desk, as his eyes blazed furiously, “How dare you lecture me! This isn't about my ego, any more than this is about you.” He calmed down slightly seeing the shell shocked look on her face, “If you go to that funeral Abigail, you'll turn it into a circus. You'll have the press dangling from trees, low flying helicopters over head, and CJ's grief on the front of every newspaper. Do you want that for her? Do you?”

Abbey sighed, suddenly understanding his point of view, and realising that once again her heart had been ruling her head as it was inclined to do at will. Slowly she shook her head.

“No.” She paused momentarily before adding hesitantly, “But we'll send flowers? From the family?”

He nodded, “I'll ask Charlie to arrange it.” He watched her go to leave, waiting until she was almost at the door and then spoke again, “Abbey, if you want to write to her, you can. Let Deborah have it when you're done. She'll forward it on for you.”

She turned to him, her eyes full of surprise, “You don't mind?”

He shook his head, “Like you said, I can't stand between you and a friend in her hour of need, even if my ego is bruised to hell..”

X X X

“How do I look?” CJ asked Donna as she walked into the kitchen, turning slightly to give her a full view of her outfit.

“Honest opinion?” Donna smiled slightly, as she poured a coffee that she knew CJ would need, “You look like you're going to a funeral.”

CJ smiled too then, sitting down at the breakfast bar and taking the coffee gratefully, “That's convenient then eh?” She sipped the coffee, then looked at Donna awkwardly, gearing up to make an apology, “Donna, I'm sorry about last night. I drank way too much. I guess I was nervous about today, but that was no excuse for...” she faded out, cringing inwardly, remembering the five hours she'd kept Donna talking about well – everything – growing up without a mother, being overly tall, her father's illness, Abbey... and Abbey... and Abbey. Abbey clearly being something of a sticking point, and doubtlessly an incredible bore to listen to after the first 10 minutes.

Donna however shook her apologies away, “It's your father's funeral today CJ. If you can't get drunk and talk at a friend on the eve of that then the friend can't be worth very much in the first place. Forget it.” Eager to provide CJ with a distraction from her embarrassment she pushed a pile of envelopes in her direction, “I bought the post in.”

CJ picked up the pile and started to leaf through it, writing off most of it without even opening the envelopes; “Bill, bill, sympathy card, sympathy card, sympathy card, bill, sympathy card.” Then suddenly she stopped in her tracks, “White House post mark.” She dropped all the other letters, staring down at the envelope as her heart jumped into her throat.

“My name,” she stammered, “it's written in Abbey's writing. The address isn't but my name is.”

Donna squeezed her arm supportively, giving her a knowing look, “I guess she hasn't forgotten about you after all.” - That having been the crux of the drunken rambling the night before. CJ blushed slightly but her attention was no longer on Donna; she was too busy turning the envelope over and over in her hands, unable to take her eyes off it because she was scared it would disappear if she did.

“I'll be in the bathroom.” Donna said, shrewdly excusing herself from the room, wanting to give CJ space to read the letter alone.

Once she was gone CJ took a deep breath and ripped opened the envelope, her eyes brimming with tears as she opened the card inside and saw the familiar expressive curves of Abbey's handwriting. She wiped her eyes furiously, stopping the words from blurring and then sat back to read them.

X X X

Dearest Claud

You may be as surprised to receive this as I am to be writing it, and I only hope that hearing from me doesn't cause you further distress at this horrible time. Maybe I should have left well alone, but when I heard your news I couldn't stop myself from getting in touch, no matter what the consequences.

I'm so sorry to hear about your father, I wish I could be with you to comfort you right now, not necessarily as a lover, but as a friend. I know how brutal the pain of losing a parent can be, even as an adult, after all, we're never as grown up as we think we are. I hope you have people there for you who are doing their best to support you, and who will continue to do so after the funeral is over. I hope to god you're not alone. I've been reassured you're not, but I still worry. You're someone very special to me after all.

I want you to know, that even though we're apart, I think of you often, all the time, every day; you're never far from my thoughts. I don't regret anything that happened between us, in spite of all the trouble it caused and the hole I now have in my life. In my heart.

Take care of yourself darling.

All my love always,

Abs x

PS – I've heard a rumour Toby's coming to the funeral. Be nice to him. Its not his fault he's a narrow minded bigot.

X X X


	24. Chapter 24

After turning up to the Election Night pizza and beer post-mortem, the First Lady had become a regular visitor to the West Wing whenever she was in residence. Once upon the time the staff would have resented the intrusion and her interference, but whereas during the first term her visits tended to be centred round professional differences between their agenda and hers, her visits now were a million miles from that. She'd turn up in the morning, in sweats, with bacon sandwiches and mugs of coffee; or wander in at 'lunchtime' to sit and chat, distracting them from their work as they tried to grab sandwiches at their desks. And then, there were the late night visits, where she'd rock up, clearly craving company; even turning up in her pyjamas wasn't unheard of.

It wasn't exactly worthy of her level of office, and they all wondered what the President thought of their new relationship with his wife, if he was aware of it at all. But they could all see how lonely she was, and so, even though it was on occasion awkward, and sometimes - when they were busy - just plain inconvenient, they put up with it. And with time, it began to feel less strange, and just another facet of life in The West Wing, as the new, improved First Lady became part of the furniture.

Because she was new and improved; no longer combative, or dominating, or, to quote Toby, 'just plain Rotweiller like', they actually found her to be sweet, and kind and started to understand what had attracted CJ to her in the first place.

And it was during one of her visits, one Monday morning, where she arrived, complete with homemade blueberry muffins, that she found Donna, Josh and Sam, crowded round Donna's computer looking at digital photographs of their weekend.

"What are you looking at?" She asked, showing a level of interest in their lives that was typical of the new Abbey.

"Nothing." Sam was the first to react, jumping in front of the monitor, looking like a naughty school boy caught looking at pornography, eager to shield the photographs from her view.

"Nothing?" She peered over his shoulder, looking sceptical, "Doesn't look like nothing, it looks like a photograph of a Joshua with airline cutlery poking out of his ears." She moved him gently to one side and reached over Donna's shoulder to click onto the next photo, which happened to be Donna asleep in an aeroplane seat, dribbling slightly, "Lovely. Are these from your trip at the weekend? Where did you go?"

Donna, Josh and Sam all exchanged horrified looks, none of them too keen to share with Abbey exactly where they had been. Although, in any event, it ended up not mattering as Abbey clicked onto the next photo and answered her own question.

"You were with CJ." She said softly, as a picture of her former lover popped onto the screen. They watched as she turned to face them, clearly struggling to tear her eyes from the photograph, "Its been a long time, did you really think I wouldn't be able to handle it?" Almost subconsciously her eyes flicked back, her gaze returning to the photo, "She's looking well. I'm glad."

“Well, she's had a difficult two years.” Donna said softly, “But she's doing great.”

“That I can see.” Abbey said, clicking onto the next photo and smiling as she saw CJ, larking happily around in her kitchen, apparently slapping Sam on the rear end with a spatula. “May I look properly?” She asked, not waiting for an answer as she moved Donna off of her seat and took her place, before returning her attention to the photographs. “It looks like you had a good weekend.” she said, indicating several bottles of beer, that in the next photo became a bottle of wine, and in the next, a bottle of Whisky. “Must have been quite a party.”

“You bet it was.” Sam responded, “Donna and CJ in particular seemed to have no idea when it would be wise to stop, they ended up so drunk that we...” He stopped abruptly in his tracks, aware of the stares of a particularly grim level of death he was receiving from both Donna and Josh, and realising instantly that his mouth had come very close to getting him into a whole lot of trouble. “We... we....” He floundered slightly, giving the other two desperate looks, hoping that they might come to his rescue.

They didn't. Because they didn't know how.

“We what?” Abbey asked, as she sniggered at a picture which appeared to show Sam modelling a pink feather boa and stiletto heels, “Come on Samuel, I've seen you virtually in drag, so there's no need to be...”

Her words died on her lips as the next photo popped up on screen and shakily she turned around to face them,

“What the fuck is that?”

X X X

2 Days Before 

“Do you know something? I'd forgotten how much fun it was to spend time with you guys.” CJ commented. She was sprawled on her sofa, her head on one side, laughing at the spectacle that was Sam, teetering around her living room in heels.

“This is why you should come home.” Josh commented. “Its awkward having you so far away. You should come back to Washington CJ, then we could hang out more often.”

CJ watched with some bemusement as Sam tripped, taking her telephone table and a pot plant down onto the floor with him, and then, laughing, shook her head, “I think a weekend every blue moon is enough. Besides which,” she added, “DC isn't my home, not after what happened.”

“Crap.” Sam declared from his little heap on the floor, “DC was your home long before the Bartlet's, long before the little lesbian thing, you should come home CJ. We miss you.”

“Speaking of the lesbian thing.” Josh cut in, before CJ could respond, “CJ, I reckon its your turn for truth and dare. So, here's the truth I want answering. What's it like to full on tongue snog with Abbey Barlet.”

From across the room Donna, who in recent years, had become closer to CJ than any of them, started giving Josh evils, unimpressed by his levels of insensitivity but CJ just laughed.

“We're playing truth or dare? I thought Sam was just wearing my shoes for kicks.” She leaned back in her chair, knocking back her Jack Daniels, “But since you ask; it was always very nice. Very,” she thought momentarily, “passionate.”

Hearing her answer, Sam scrambled to his feet, moving to sit beside CJ on the sofa, desperate for more information, “So was it like kissing a man?”

“No.”

It was Donna who answered, not CJ, the latter being too caught up in a whirl of memories long since put to bed. “From what I saw it was way more romantic.” She smiled, “It was sexy, but very romantic.”

Cj who had come out of her reverie, smiled too then, “I'd forgotten you'd seen us together. That was in the Rose Garden right? With Zoey?”

At her words Josh turned to Sam, “CJ, Abbey, Zoey, Donna, Rose Garden, snogging; am I the only one who's semi hard right now?”

Sam shook his head, “This is utterly inappropriate, but no. And speaking of inappropriate,” he looked over at Donna, “I have a dare for you. In the words of that inexplicably Rastafairian crab from The Little Mermaid; 'Kiss the girl'.”

Donna stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head, “Which girl?”

He laughed, “Well I may well be in heels but I don't mean me.” He nodded in CJ's direction, “Go on. I want to see it.”

At his side, CJ blushed, embarrassed by the turn their game was taking, but Donna just shrugged, knocking back her drink and then getting to her feet.

“Fairs fair.” She murmured, before turning to Sam with a wicked glint in her eye, “But you're going to regret this when you're kissing Josh.” And then, without another word she leant over and gently brushed CJ's lips with her own.

X X X

“So, yeah. It was just a game.” Donna finished up awkwardly, trying not to look at the picture on screen, which suddenly seemed to have a lot more action going on in the tongue department than she originally remembered, or Abbey who she could tell was shaken by it. “It didn't mean anything.”

Abbey forced a laugh, although it was a laugh that was kidding no one, “Of course not. Like you said, it was a game. These things happen.” She got to her feet, leaving the plate of blueberry muffins on Donna's desk, “Enjoy your breakfast, I have to get back to the residence. Jed wants to talk to me. About a thing.” She added, again, fooling no one. “I'll see you later.”

As she left, the room was plunged into an awkward silence, only broken when Josh let out a low whistle,

“Oh dear God. Jealousy personified.” He shook his head, his gaze following Abbey as she high tailed it along the corridor, “I don't care what the President says, or how many statements Lyle issues about the 'perfect' First Couple, I don't think we've seen then end of 'CJ and Abbey', not by a long shot...”

X X X


	25. Chapter 25

**A Year Later**

Zoey couldn't remember ever feeling so helpless; or scared; or alone. She was terrified. Her family was falling apart, almost imploding, and she had no one to talk to about it. No one to confide in. As a child, if she'd been afraid, she'd have gone to her parents; but that wasn't an option right now. Her father was too sick, and as for her mom.... well, it just wasn't an option.

She'd thought about calling her sisters, but even though, as the years had passed, things had thawed out there, it still wasn't really an option. The closeness they'd once shared as a family was gone. And their concerns would be all about her dad anyway, and she was convinced that wasn't the real problem. She'd written Charlie off for the same reasons, even though they'd managed to salvage a friendship out of the ashes of their relationship, he wouldn't understand.

In the end, out of shear desperation, she found herself in The West Wing, going in search of the one person who she thought might help. The one person who had seen what she had all those years before.

“Donna?”

The Assistant looked harassed when she looked up, and it didn't take Einstein to work out why. Zoey knew that her father's illness had thrown his staff into chaos, as they tried to balance his determination to work with what his doctors, and ultimately his body, were actually telling them.

All the same, when Donna saw who was standing in front of her, she managed a kind smile, “Zoey,” she got to her feet, giving her a hug, “how are you?”

The hug, combined with the gentleness in her voice was all it took for Zoey to burst into tears. Seeing this, Donna took her by the hand and led her to Josh's office.

“Joshua.” She said firmly, “Out, now.”

Josh, who had been hard at work, looked at her like she'd sprouted a second head. It was only when Donna pushed the sobbing daughter of the President through the door that he suddenly understood, getting to his feet and scuttling away like a terrified insect.

Crying women were not Josh Lyman's thing.

Once Josh had gone, Donna sat Zoey down, holding her until her tears subsided. Then she handed her a box of tissues and sat in the chair opposite hers. “So,” she said, biting her lip nervously, a little concerned about saying the wrong thing, “I'm going to hazard a guess that these tears aren't over your dad.” The surprise in Zoey's eyes told her she was right, and seeing a questioning look there too she thought she ought to explain, “If it was your dad, you'd have gone to your mom, or your sisters or to Charlie. You didn't. You came to me.”

Zoey nodded slowly, “It's not that I'm not worried about dad.” Nothing in fact, could have been further from the truth. She was worried sick about her dad. It didn't take a medical doctor to see that with this latest episode, his MS was becoming more aggressive and the results more profound. There had moments recently where she'd barely recognised the man in front of her. But yet, she could have coped with that. It was frightening, but they'd been living with the knowledge that it would happen for a long time. It was a forgone conclusion.

It was the unexpected that scared her.

Donna obviously understood that because she nodded, “Of course you're worried, but there's something else. Something bigger. Your mom?” She asked, taking a guess, although she knew deep down that she was right.

At her words, Zoey's eyes filled with tears again, “She's in trouble Donna, and I can't help her.” She took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to ask was as risky as it was controversial, and more than aware that in every likelihood Donna would turn her down, “I need CJ here.” She blurted out, as tears streaked her face, “Mom needs CJ here. Please Donna, I don't know how to get hold of her, but you do...”

Donna sighed, “I can't do that.” She felt like the biggest bitch in the world in the face of the younger girl's obvious distress, but she knew what trouble she'd be causing if she did as she asked. Not just for the President and First Lady, but for CJ too. She'd seen what her friend had been through over the last three years, knew how long it had taken her to get her life back on track. There was no way she was going to upset that particular apple cart now.

No matter how much Zoey cried.

Little did she realise however, Zoey had so much more than tears up her sleeve, a fact she discovered as Zoey reached out, took her by the hand, and dragged her, pretty much kicking and screaming to the residence.

When they got there Zoey led her through a series of corridors, only stopping when they reached a set of oak panelled double doors. Then she turned to her, a serious expression on her face,

“If you ever tell anyone what you saw in here, I'll have your security pass before you even know what's happening. I'm their daughter. I can do that. And you know it.” They were big words, ones that both women knew were possibly not quite true, and yet, Donna could quite believe that any betrayal at this point and Zoey would, indeed, do her best to 'finish her'. She nodded slowly, “I promise.”

With that Zoey pushed open the doors and motioned Donna inside. She gasped at the sight that greeted her, she couldn't help it.

They were in a drawing room, a cosy room with an open fire.

A cosy room where the First Lady was sprawled on the floor, an empty gin bottle at her side, her face tear stained.

Donna glanced surreptitiously at her watch. It was 11.37 in the morning. She looked over at Zoey and then hesitantly spoke, “Is this from last night?”

Zoey shook her head, tears pricking her eyes again, “This morning. Dad tried to stand to shave, he fell, they had a row. I could hear them all the way from my room. That was a couple of hours ago, and now look at her.”

Donna looked from Zoey, a young girl who looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, to Abbey and then back again. She sighed and then made her way over to the corner of the room where she'd spied a small telephone table. She picked up a message pad and pen that lay on it and then, pushing the last small vestiges of doubts into the far reaches of her brain, she scrawled down a telephone number.

“This is CJ's new number in DC.” She ripped the paper from the pad and pushed it into Zoey's hand, “But if anyone asks, you didn't get it from me...”

X X X

CJ had been back in Washington for 3 months. She'd resisted it for as long as possible, not wanting to leave her father's last home behind, but in the end, she had to face facts. She was bored, and lonely. She wanted to be back where her friends were.

And so, she'd sold up, packed up all her belongings and moved back to DC. Her apartment was smaller, a lot smaller, than the one she'd left nearly 3 years earlier but she had somewhere to rest her head, and the whole of the city to entertain in, so she didn't grumble.

She was working again too. Nothing major, just some freelancing. Press releases, corporate work mainly, although she also penned the occasional newspaper column. Still the offers for book deals rolled in, but she resisted. Her life, both political and personal were her own, and it was going to stay that way. She was no John Hoynes.

It had been a little strange at first, after so long in the wilderness, to suddenly find herself crossing paths with long forgotten faces, but in some ways, quite comforting. It was like coming home.

Although not completely.

Not to her real home anyway.

She had been to The White House, hadn't been able to resist it. She'd gone one morning, and stood at the perimeter railings, staring into her old world. She'd even contemplated taking the White House tour, but knew the chance of being recognised meant it was a no go. It would only take one grainy photograph, stumbled up on by a journalist looking to make a quick buck, and CJgate would be blown up all over again. That was the last thing any of them needed.

And speaking of journalists...

The buzzer went. And as CJ put the finishing touches to her make up, she found herself wondering, not for the first time, if this was really a good idea. Still, it was a bit late to change her mind now, and so, after one last cursory glance in the mirror – during which she discovered she looked hot, tall, but hot – she headed for the door, opening it with new resolve as she squelched her misgivings.

“Mr Concannon.” She flashed him a winning smile, “Good to see you.”

X X X

It wasn't a date. She had made that clear to Danny on more than one occasion since she'd agreed to the lunch. It was just a white flag, to prove that the war was over. After all, they were moving in the same circles again now; there was nothing to be gained in keeping daggers drawn.

All the same, she'd taken some convincing. Three months of convincing in fact. Typical journalist that he was, he'd known her new number even before she had, calling her on her first day in her new home, and then daily, sometimes even twice daily, until she'd eventually acquiesced and agreed to this. To lunch.

In some ways, she was still furious with him. Not that she believed that her affair with Abbey would have gone unnoticed forever without his input, but all the same, she felt betrayed by him. And yet, as time as past, she had had to admit to herself that he'd had no choice. She'd compromised her own position, and that was no one's fault, ultimately, other than hers. Yes, it still pissed her off that Abbey had been made to suffer, but again, they were the ones that had entered into the relationship. No one had held guns to their heads.

Which was why she felt able to sit at a table with him. Dine with him. To clear the air.

Not that they talked about it much. They both knew it was probably wisest not to - no point in raking over old ground - and instead they focused on other things; their work, the Washington social scene, the race for democratic nomination that was just around the corner. Easy conversation. Little more than small talk.

And yet, she was glad that she'd come. In clearing the air with him, it felt like drawing a line under the whole affair. She'd moved on from the White House, and from Abbey, and now she'd forgiven Danny it felt like it was finally all over.

She could move on now. Set about building her future.

X X X

“What is this?” Abbey looked up at Zoey groggily. She was still on the floor of the drawing room, bleary eyed, having been woken by her daughter shaking her shoulders incessantly, only to be presented with a piece of paper. She turned her attention from Zoey to it, trying to make sense of its contents, before looking up at Zoey again,

“This is a phone number.”

Zoey nodded silently.

She looked around the room, trying to put the pieces together from her fragmented memories. There had been a fight with Jed, she knew that. And clearly – clearly – she'd been drinking. She spotted a discarded gin bottle nearby and sighed,

“Rehab? This is a clinic? You think I need help?”

Again Zoey nodded, but she was quick to clarify her point, “Yes mom, I think you need help, but not from a clinic. That's CJ's number.” She added softly.

Even if her words were not enough to stun Abbey completely into sobriety, they at least brought her round a little, as she stared at her daughter, absolutely stunned, “You got me her number?”

“You need something I can't give you.” Zoey shrugged, “Since dad got sick, you're not coping. Please mom, just call her...”

Abbey struggled unsteadily to her feet, before quickly collapsing back onto the couch, shaking her head as if trying to clear it.

“I can't.” She murmured, “It's been too long. And, your father,” she sighed, “if he found out, especially at the moment, it would kill him.”

“Yes,” Zoey snapped, reaching down to pick up the empty bottle, “and if you don't do this, this,” she waved the bottle in Abbey's face, “is going to kill you. I'm not saying,” she added, slightly more calmly, “that you have to restart your thing with her. Just call her mom. Talk to her. Tell her how you're feeling. Because you won't tell me, and you won't tell dad. Please... for us, for me and dad and Liz and Ellie... call CJ.”

X X X

Watching her daughter leave the room in tears Abbey got to her feet, and moved slowly, aware how unsteady she was, to the drinks trolley, pouring herself a sizeable drink that she knew she didn't need. Clutching it in one hand, and the scrap of paper in the other, she moved over to the telephone, sitting down beside it.

This was ridiculous. Even blind drunk she knew that. The last thing she should be doing was ringing her. It flew in the face of everything she'd done in the last three years – giving her up, concentrating on her marriage to Jed, fighting to save it, even though at some points it seemed like there was nothing to save.

But she'd done it. Things HAD got better. Yeah, OK, it wasn't always perfect but what marriage was? Especially in the last year or so, as the end of their time in The White House seemed to come ever closer, things had improved a lot. They'd been closer.

They'd even had sex. Hell. It had taken over two years but they'd got there. Things were OK.

They were happy.

And, yeah, things weren't so good at the moment. But that wasn't Jed's fault. Jed was sick. Sick and scared. That was no reason to go running to CJ.

And yet the paper, the number, was still burning a hole in her hand.

Knocking half her drink back, she reached for the phone, her hand shaking as she punched in the numbers.

She shouldn't be doing this. She really really shouldn't. Even as it started to ring she thought she should put the receiver down, throw the number in the fire, forget this ever happened.

But she couldn't.

And then, the machine clicked in. She heard CJ's voice. The voice that she'd fallen in love with, the voice that had comforted her when she was at her lowest ebb. The voice that had told her how beautiful she was. How much she loved her.

Not today of course. All the voice did today was offer her the opportunity to leave a message, and then came the beep.

She drained her glass, and then, throwing caution to the wind, she started to speak.

X X X

“Thank you for a lovely lunch.”

They were in Danny's car, parked up outside CJ's apartment. Danny was looking at her in a way that implied that he wanted inviting inside, but she was having none of it. It wasn't a date, it never had been. And it wasn't going to end that way.

With her not making a move in that direction though, he did. Not particularly subtly either.

“Can I come and say hi to Gail?”

She shook her head, reaching for the door handle.

“Well can I take you out again?”

Another shake of her head, “I don't think so Danny. It's been nice to see you, nicer still to bury the hatchet, but, no, really, its not a good idea.”

And then she got out of the car without another word, leaving him open mouthed.

X X X

She was still questioning his audacity when she got inside her apartment, wondering how an otherwise utterly intelligent man could ever have thought that they'd be able to pick up their 'thing' exactly where they'd left off before he'd become embroiled in the plot that could have ruined her life.

Some people really were beyond belief.

She hung up her coat, and bag, in a coat cupboard that seemed at times to be twice the size of the apartment itself, and then reached for her answer phone to check her messages.

Just the one.

She hit the play button, expecting either Donna, and a plea to meet for drinks after work because Josh had been driving her to distraction 'again' – the two of them had seemed more like squabbling lovestruck teenagers than ever recently, or Sam and a tongue in cheek request that they go looking for women together, a request he seemed to make at least once a week, and that thus far she'd managed to refuse.

To her shock, it was neither.

In the first instance, the very first, she didn't recognise the voice on the other end of the phone, the slur to it acting as a very effective disguise.

A disguise that didn't last.

“- so yeah, its Abbey. You're probably wondering why I'm calling.”

'You reckon?' She sunk down to the floor, feeling both sick and dizzy at hearing Abbey's voice after so long. Not that she hadn't heard it on television, during interviews and the like, but there was a difference between Abbey's private and public voice anyway, just a slight one, but if you knew her you could tell. Besides which, there was also the world of difference between hearing a voice on TV and hearing it on your own answering machine.

“You're also probably wondering why I'm drunk. At lunchtime. What can I say Claud? It's the only way I know how to cope. I'm so scared.”

As Abbey clearly started to cry CJ clasped a hand to her mouth, not even sure what was upsetting her the most – Abbey's tears, her admission, or the 'Claud'. They were all tugging at her heart strings in their own different ways.

“I'm also angry.”

She blurted out the last word, and CJ could tell it had taken a lot for her to actually get it out. And so, although listening to the recording was killing her emotionally, she knew she had to carry on listening. Because Abbey needed her to.

“You must have heard about Jed. Seen the state he's in. What if this could have been avoided? What if he'd done as I asked and stuck at one term. He might be OK now. But instead he's paralysed.” The tears were coming thick and fast now, “And I can't say this to anyone, because they'll think I'm blaming him. And we all know that he's the good guy and I'm the bad guy, that's how its always been, but especially now. Since us. You're the only one who understands. Please Claud, if you're there... pick up the phone... I need you... please...”

The message faded out to just sobs then, and then a click as the phone was put down at the other end. Left in silence, crying herself, CJ wiped her eyes furiously, desperately trying to pull herself together. Thinking things through, planning her next move.

She knew from the message that Abbey did need her. In many ways, it was like turning the clock back to that night in the drawing room. Three bastarding years on and not a thing had changed.

Except for the fact that CJ couldn't be there for her any more.

Maybe if things hadn't gone the way they had done that night, she could have been there. Could have been Abbey's friend, the one to see her through Jed's illness. But not as it stood. She couldn't just roll up to the door of the White House and offer TLC, and as for an illicit meeting? That would just be asking for trouble.

She wanted to help, she really did. But as Jed had once pointed Abbey was too good at letting her heart rule her head. She hadn't thought this through, and now, once again, she was going to have to be the practical one.

And so, with a deep sigh, and a heavy heart, she reached up and hit the message delete button.

It hurt. But what else could she do?

X X X

CJ fixed Donna in a hard stare, "You gave Abbey my home number."

It was two days later, the two had met up for drinks, and rather than skirt the issue, CJ had decided to face it head on.

Donna shook her head, but the admission of guilt was written all over her face.

CJ sighed, "Well you gave it to someone."

She nodded then, unable to lie to her friend, "I'm sorry. Zoey came to me, she was worried. Things are really bad."

"Very bad?"

"Yeah."

There was a momentary silence as CJ sipped her drink, and then she looked back up at Donna, "You know why I can't help her. You also know I would if I could." She was fighting back tears now, tears that she couldn't stop coming much as she wanted to. She reached into her pocket, pushed a business card across the table. Donna picked it up and read it outloud.

"Ann Reid. Therapist."

"She's good." CJ said, by way of explanation, "Make sure Abbey gets it, and Donna, please, look after her. I need to know she's not alone..."

XXX


	26. Chapter 26

CJ missed the sense of discipline that having an office to go to placed on her. Working from home, it was sometimes hard to get going in the morning, and she found herself sitting in her pyjamas, eating Lucky Charms and watching Regis and Kelly, when really, really she ought to be at her computer.

It was on one such morning that the phone rang. Shrilly. Irritatingly. CJ used to like the phone ringing. Phone meant work, and work meant money and money meant new handbags. Since that fateful day six months earlier however, the day when Abbey had called and sobbed into her answer phone, she found herself on tender hooks every time it rang. Dreading that it was going to be another one of 'those' calls. Another bitch of message – because she never could have taken it – that she'd have to steel her heart against.

It had been better when Donna had still been at The White House, because Donna had been able to give her little progress reports on how Abbey was doing. Which apparently was well. Although apparently resistant at first, she had eventually sought help, and seemed much much brighter, particularly since her husband's MS had once more gone into remission. So Donna would bring messages of hope, of smiles, of a situation much much improved.

But then Donna had left. Moved on to pastures new, taking away CJ's one link to Abbey. Now she was reduced to just monitoring the other woman in the press and on TV. And she looked happy enough, seemed to have thrown herself into her work, tying up the loose ends of eight years of being the First Lady. But every now and then, there'd be a press conference, or an interview, and CJ would hear a tautness in her voice, or see a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes, and then she'd start worrying over again.

She glanced over at the phone, as her message clicked in, bracing herself for what was to come.

“CJ, if you're screening, pick up.”

She smiled, more than a little relieved, and reached for the phone.

“Mr Lyman.” She answered, putting her bowl of cereal to one side, “I believe congratulations are in order.” She glanced at that days issue of The Post which was lying on her coffee table. The lead story, unsurprisingly, was that Matthew Santos had been selected as the Democratic candidate for President, after a long campaign spearheaded by Josh himself, “I bet Donna's spitting.” She added, well aware of the rift that grown between the two when Donna had given up playing the loyal Assistant and gone off to work on a rival campaign.

Josh said nothing, and CJ wasn't surprised. Very little ever got said about his and Donna's relationship – it was just all implied, and bubbled away under the surface. She reached for the TV control and muted Regis and Kelly.

“So what's this call in aid of?”

“I want you on board. For the election campaign. Will you do it?”

At first his words didn't make an ounce of sense to her. And even when they did, she didn't think he was serious, which is why her only response was to burst out laughing.

“I want you on board.” It seemed like less of a request the second time, more like an order. But all the same, she still couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“You want me to come and work on 'Santos for President?”

“Absolutely.” Josh was firing on all cylinders now, “I've got Sam, but Leo and Toby are staying with the current administration. And anyway, that's all besides the point, because its you I need CJ. You're the only one who can steer this thing from a press perspective.”

“Joshua,” She replied incredulously, “all my presence would do to this 'thing' from a press perspective is turn your candidate into a laughing stock. I am CJ of CJgate. I'm not going to win anything for anybody. Besides which,” she glanced at the paper again, and a photograph of the very charismatic candidate, “your boy seems to be doing fine on his own.”

“Screw Cjgate. in case you didn't notice – we've been a laughing stock once, and we turned it around, we can do that again. Besides which,” Josh added, “you're the best. No one's going to be able to whip my boy into shape like you. Because he needs it. He's a loose cannon. I'm not taking no for an answer CJ. I want you in the campaign headquarters first thing tomorrow. And wear a nice suit. There will be cameras.”

She opened her mouth to say no. Again. But then, something stopped her. She wasn't sure what that something was. It could have been the excitement in Josh's voice – so reminiscent of how they'd all been working on 'Bartlet For America', or the way, that deep down she knew she'd secretly been following the Santos campaign just dreaming that this might eventually happen, but either way, when she opened her mouth again, it wasn't to say no.

“OK.” She said softly, “But just the campaign. When President Santos moves into The Oval Office. I won't be following. Deal?”

“Deal.” She could almost hear the beam on Josh's face through the phone, and she had no doubt that he thought he'd be able to change her mind on the latter part.

There was no way though. Not in a million years.

She picked up her bowl of cereal again, keeping the phone in the crook of her neck, “So, how are you going to break it to your candidate that he's got history's most controversial Press Secretary on his payroll?”

There was a brief silence, and then Josh sniggered, before a second voice came onto the line,

“Ms Cregg, you're currently on speaker phone with Matt Santos. May I take this opportunity to welcome you to the campaign. Oh, and to ask, respectfully, that you keep your hands off my wife...”

XXX

“You wanted to see me?” Abbey stepped into the Oval Office where Jed was sat at his desk, going through some paperwork. He looked up when he heard her voice, and smiled, but she couldn't help but notice that his brow was furrowed, “Is there a problem?”

He shook his head, pushing his work to one side, “Not at all.” He replied, gesturing to her to sit down, “Well, except one thing. When I came looking for you, your temp-,” he paused briefly, a look of confusion on his face, “What happened to Katrina by the way?”

Abbey sighed, “Santos for President – you know what this town is like, once the bright new future makes itself known, they all start running.”

Jed nodded knowingly, having seen the trend reflected in his own staff, “I see, well, anyway, your temp,” he broke off again, clearly stalling, “does she have a name?”

Abbey shrugged, instantly seeing what he was doing, if having no idea of the reason why, “Search me. Get to the point Josiah, before we both drop dead.”

“I'll go before you.” He remarked, and then seeing the dirty look she gave him finally continuing, “The young lady with the interesting eyebrows said you were at therapy.” He looked at her over his glasses, “You're in therapy Abigail? Was this not something you thought your husband might like to know.”

Abbey groaned, cursing inwardly. She'd known that there was something she'd forgotten to tell Katrina's replacement, she just hadn't known what until that moment.

Don't mention the fucking therapy. To anyone. Especially Jed.

“Are you sure she didn't say 'indulging in retail therapy'?” She asked, not expecting him to buy it for one second, but now being in the position where she was the one stalling the conversation in the hope it might just go away altogether.

No such luck.

“Abigail.”

She hated it when he spoke to her like that. So sternly. It made him sound like her father. It also made her angry. She stared at the floor, started counting to ten. No point in snapping at him at this juncture; it really wouldn't help matters.

She got to four before he spoke again.

“How long for?”

She sighed and then lifted her eyes to look at him, “Since you were ill. I was bullied into it. Certain quarters felt I wasn't coping with the situation in a manner befitting a First Lady.”

Jed leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed firmly on her, “By certain quarters I presume you mean my staff?” Seeing her obvious surprise he continued, “I've been quite aware of your ever deepening relationship with them Abbey. I was just glad it was platonic this time. Although," he added, "I did start to wonder after I found you asleep on the couch in the office of my Deputy Chief of Staff, with his Assistant curled up next to you.”

Abbey blushed slightly, remembering the night a year before. She'd been having a particularly miserable evening so had convinced Donna that a girlie sleepover with twinkies and dessert wine would be a good idea. She'd had no idea that Jed had ever found out about it though. Before she could dwell on the incident any further however, he'd moved on.

“I assume though that the therapy was Leo's idea. I mean he'd know right? Takes one to know one.”

“One what?” Abbey asked, her voice shaking, not liking the way the conversation was going. Jed was getting way too close to the truth, even if he had the instigator of her therapy wrong.

Jed sighed, “You want me to say it? Because I can. Although, I thought that the way these things worked was that it actually has to come from you.”

Biting her lip nervously, Abbey found herself staring at the floor again, too embarrassed to risk Jed's eyes meeting hers. She took a deep breath, “You knew I was drinking?”

“I was flat on my back nearly all day every day. You spent a lot of time leaning over me. The stench of alcohol on your breath meant it wasn't hard to tell.”

His words, although said gently were brutal enough in content to reduce Abbey nearly to tears as she carried on burning holes into the carpet with her eyes, anything to avoid looking at him. She opened her mouth, wanting to excuse herself, wanting to say it was all over now, but she didn't get chance, because Jed got there first.

“Was it because of Claudia Jean?”

“NO!” She lifted her eyes then, wanting him to see the truth in them, “Yes, that affected me – it affected all of us – it left me confused for a long time. But the drinking, that wasn't about that. It was about lots of things but not that. I can cope with that now.”

Jed looked at her, his expression unreadable, “Well that's just as well Abigail, because I've just had word that Claudia Jean has joined the Santos campaign team, and I'd hate for all that therapy to go to waste...”

XXX

“CJ? I've heard a rumour that it's easier to read the papers if you move your hands from in front of your face.”

“Is that so Skippy?” CJ moved her hands from their positioning spread over her eyes to instead scowl at Sam nastily as he nodded, “Well, thank you for your input, but I liked the papers better before I could see their content.” She added, indicating the pile of articles in front of her, all detailing her return to politics as part of Team Santos.

Josh, who was sifting through a pile of articles of his own, smiled encouragingly, “Actually CJ, they're not so bad. I particularly like this one.” He held up a photograph of CJ chatting to Helen Santos at their rally the day before, that came coupled with the headline 'The Next Big Thing?'.

“I'm a fan myself.” Matt added as he came into the room, with his wife in tow, “It gave me naughty thoughts.” At his side, Helen slapped his arm playfully, “Claudia, ignore him. He's been like this all morning.”

As Matt opened his mouth to make another crack, CJ screamed, bringing all the joviality to a halt. When she had the assembled group in silence, she stared at them all viciously,

“You're not taking this seriously.”

“We're taking it as seriously as it deserves to be taken.” Josh pointed out, “I.e. not at all seriously. Calm down. Everyone knows any publicity is good publicity.”

“There are situations,” CJ conceded, “where that is true. However, I think a situation where the press are offering odds on me bedding the future First Lady of the United States of America – and, this is the clincher – not talking about her Presidential Candidate husband at all - does not fall into that category.”

“Are they good odds?” Helen asked impishly, “Should I put money on it? In fact,” she looked at her husband questioningly, “would I even be allowed? Or is that like a jockey betting on their own horse.”

With another scream CJ left the room, with an obscene comment about 'riding' made by Sam ringing in her ears. She wasn't coping, not in the slightest. It wasn't the press intrusion particularly – she'd experienced much worse - or the fact that her brothers in arms thought it was an absolute hoot. It was Abbey. She was worried about Abbey.

The fact of the matter was, from the very first second she'd seen the very first article, she'd seriously doubted the decision she'd made. At the very least, if she'd been going to accept Josh's offer, she should have consulted Abbey first; made sure she was OK before she unleashed a media circus upon her again.

Still, it was a bit late for that now.

She'd made her bed, and now she – and Abbey – were going to have to lie in it.

Individually of course.

XXX


	27. Chapter 27

**Election Night 2006**

“Aren’t I the one who’s meant to shake?” Jed was sat in the bedroom he shared with Abbey, watching as she struggled to fasten the clasp on her necklace. She looked round, startled, obviously having been concentrating too hard to hear him,

“Sorry?”

He got to his feet and moved to her side, taking the two ends of the chain from her, slowly clipping them together. “Shaking.” He explained, “I thought I had the monopoly on it.”

Abbey smiled, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. She’d been acting strangely all evening, part nervous, part fidgety, part on another planet. He reached out, took her hand, “Are you ok?”

She nodded as she pulled away from him, going to her wardrobe to take out a pair of a pair of black heels. “I’m fine, it’s just,” she turned to look at him as she sat down on the edge of the bed to slip the shoes on, “Do you really want to do this?”

He shrugged, “I don’t think it’s really up for discussion do you? This is a victory bash at the Party Headquarters; I think it’ll look like a pretty poor showing if I don’t go and shake my successor by the hand. And don’t forget, one of my oldest friends was on the ticket too.”

“Ah yes,” she said, her smile more genuine this time, sharing his pleasure at their friend’s success, “Vice President McGarry. It’s quite something.”

“It is.” Jed replied. And he meant it. Losing his Chief of Staff during the final months of his second term had been a body blow, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t understood the reasons why. Vice President was, as Abbey stated, quite something, and teaming a young and dynamic Presidential Candidate with a proven old hand like Leo was genius; genius with a Josh Lyman touch.

“So, you see, we have to go.” He glanced over at Abbey whose smile had long since faded, “You don’t want to?”

“It’s not that. I was thinking of you.” She said softly, “His campaign team will be there.”

He looked at her questioningly, “By his campaign team, I assume you mean Claudia Jean?”

She looked away, “I wasn’t sure if you could handle it.”

“I’ll be fine.” He replied, his voice full of falsified bravo, intended to make him sound more confident than he was, “Why should it bother me?” He sat beside her, wrapping his arm protectively – if not a little territorially – around her shoulder, “I got the girl. But,” he added, feeling her trembling slightly under his touch, “can you handle it?”

She got to her feet, moving away from him to take her jacket from a hanger on the closet door, “Yeah. Just don’t look at me in that patronizing way every time I pick up a glass of Champagne. It drives me insane. I’m in therapy, not on the 12 steps. I’m not an alcoholic,”

He cut into her sentence, the argument having become so familiar over the last few months that he was able to finish it for her, “alcoholics go to meetings.”

She smiled weakly, shrugging on her jacket, “Yeah.”

Again he moved to her side, leant over and gently kissed her, “I won’t say a word Abbey. I promise. Come on, let’s go.”

XXX

“Right! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Josh was running around the Campaign HQ, high on adrenalin, complete with tux but untied bowtie. The bowtie he blamed Donna for. He’d never had to learn to tie them with her around and now she was gone he was screwed. He stuck his head into CJ’s office, then stopped abruptly,

“Why the Hell aren’t you dressed?”

“I’m dressed.” CJ murmured, indicating her navy Donna Karen suit, as she got to her feet, “You’re the one with the non-tied bowtie. She reached for the two ends and pulled him round to face her so she could tie it before remarking, “You need a new Donna.”

“And you,” Josh urged, “need to slip into something sexy immediately. I’m thinking long, I’m thinking cleavage, I’m thinking sequins.”

CJ shook her head tiredly, “And I’m thinking you can get Skippy to wear it. The only thing I’m slipping into tonight is my pajamas.”

Josh pulled back slightly, looking her up and down for signs that she was joking, and not seeing, any returning his bemusement filled eyes to her face, “What are you talking about? Do the words ‘victory’ and ‘party’ mean nothing to you?”

She finished tying his tie and sat back down at her desk, “I’m not going. I think I have a migraine coming on.”

His bemusement grew somewhat, “Who are you and what have you done with the real CJ? Because I need her back, like, what, yesterday.”

“What’s going on?” Sam came into the room, his bowtie in a similar state of untied-ness as Josh’s had been moments before and stood in front of CJ looking at her hopefully. She sighed and then complied.

Josh meanwhile, filled Sam in, “CJ says she’s not coming tonight. She says,” he paused for dramatic effect, “that she’s sick!”

“CJ’s never sick.” Sam replied, his own expression now mirroring Josh’s, “And even if she is sick she pretends she isn’t when big events are happening.”

CJ understood their puzzlement because Sam was right. She’d attended a state dinner with the Chinese with a temperature that had been off the chart, and then there’d be the time…

“She gave the Brazilian Ambassador shingles.” Sam said, recalling the memory, by coincidence, at the exact moment CJ did, “We told her they were shingles but she insisted she was allergic to her washing powder and covered them up with make up. Next day the entire delegation went down with the same and got stranded in the country for a fortnight.” Finishing his story he turned to look at CJ, “What’s going on?”

She sighed, wondering, not for the first time, why men in general were so dense.

“I’m not coming.” She said, aware of a tremble in her voice as she did so, a sign that she was close to breaking point, “Please boys, don’t push it.”

The truth came to Sam and Josh in the exact same instant, and if they’d have been cartoon characters light bulbs would have lit up over their heads. They exchanged worried looks, not sure how to deal with the serious subject of downhearted CJ without assistance, and then Sam, seeing that Josh wasn’t about to say anything, knelt down at CJ’s side.

“This is about Abbey?”

“Give the boy a coconut.” Tears were streaking her cheeks within seconds, much to her own disgust, “I can’t do it Sam. I just can’t.” She got to her feet, pretty much pushing him out of her way in her haste to grab her coat and get out of there, “Tell Matt and Helen I said sorry. I doubt they’ll be surprised.”

They watched until CJ was gone from the room, leaving sobs echoing in her wake, and then Sam turned to Josh,

“You know what you’ve got to do.”

Josh pulled a face, but he knew full well there was no arguing. Sam was right, “Donna?”

Sam nodded his confirmation, “Donna.”

XXX

“Congratulations son.” Jed held out his hand to a clearly jubilant Matthew Santos, as their paths crossed for the first time that evening, “You fought an excellent campaign.”

Matt smiled, “Well, I had a good team. Something I can thank you for.” He added, fully aware that so many of the people who had got him elected had cut their teeth eight years earlier doing the same for the man who was now stood in front of him.

Jed laughed, “They aren’t a bad lot, but don’t take any schtick from them. They don’t know what they’re talking about; especially this one.” He grinned as Leo joined them. He reached out and hugged his old friend, “Mr VP.”

Leo hugged him back enthusiastically, “Mr President. Good to see you.”

At Jed’s side, Abbey let out a mock sigh of discontentment, “Dear God, here’s a love-in that could go on all evening. Will you gentlemen excuse us,” she reached out to Helen Santos, who had stood up until that point silently at her husband’s side, clearly in awe of their company, “I should give Helen some First Lady type pointers. Like,” she smiled playfully, “suggested heel heights for various public appearances, and where I’ll be leaving the emergency cookie supplies.” She took Helen by the hand, “Come on dear…” she said, extricating her from the group before anyone could argue.

She ushered her over to one corner of the room, before turning to her apologetically, “I hope you don’t mind, but I know what my husband and Leo are like once they get going.” She looked the younger woman up and down, “How are you holding up?”

Helen shrugged, biting her lip nervously, “It’s all a little crazy.”

Abbey smiled kindly, knowing exactly how she felt. She had, after all, been there herself just two short presidential terms ago. “Yes,” she said with a nod, “that it is. But you’ll get the hang of it. It’s all smiling, and waving and being polite to the right people. It’s easy enough if you stick to the rules.”

“Rule number one being only to sleep with the man in The Oval Office?”

It was hard to tell who was most taken aback by the comment, Abbey, who was pretty god damn stunned, or Helen who clearly didn’t see the connotations until it was out of her mouth and then instantly wanted to take it back. That said, Abbey could tell that it hadn’t been meant maliciously, that it was just a joke that had fallen completely flat, and quickly came to her rescue.

“Ah, actually,” she said with a smile, whilst still chiding Helen gently, “I think ‘engage brain before mouth’ works better as rule one. But really, don’t worry about it. You’ll get your head around it soon, you’ll see.”

XXX

“Shut up!” CJ scowled at the buzzer unit by her front door, which had been buzzing – for want of a better word – persistently, for 15 minutes. She figured it was probably a journalist wanting a quote for an article about Santo’s runaway victory, and they could fuck off. She was off duty.

She was also curled up on her sofa, surrounded by a mountain of screwed up balls of tissue. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried to such an extent; all the way home from the campaign headquarters and for a good hour and a half since. It was as though now the whirlwind excitement of the campaign was behind her she was back to a place where everything was bothering her – her ridiculously small sized apartment, her father, and of course, Abbey.

That had been what had really tipped her over the edge. Just the very thought of seeing her again. She’d kept the thought at bay during the course of the day, but then the minute they knew that the job was done and the election was won…

Melt down.

It seemed ridiculous really, the thought that after four years she still couldn’t bear the idea of being in the same room as her, and yet, there was no way she could be. No way in the world.

Still the buzzer continued, grating against her brain that was already addled enough. Eventually, at the end of tether she got to her feet, sending all the balls of screwed up tissue flying, stormed to the door and angrily picked up the phone unit.

“What?!?”

“Are you out of tissues yet?”

Her anger subsided instantly, and she couldn’t help but smile, “Donna, hey, come on up.”

Her friend appeared in the now open doorway a couple of minutes later as she was desperately trying to make both herself and the apartment presentable. In her arms appeared to be, as much as CJ could work out from first glance, Chinese food, ice cream and beer.

She smiled weakly, “If that’s pork mushu, Ben and Jerry’s and Peroni, I’ll love you forever.”

Donna grinned, “Would I dare turn up with anything else?”

“How come you turned up at all?” CJ asked curiously.

“Josh called.” Donna replied, as she dumped the food and drink down onto the coffee table, “Josh called for the first time in months, and you know, there’s me thinking he wants to bury the hatchet because, well, his guy won and all. I guess part of me even thought there might be a job in it for me, but no, it was all – CJ’s crying – flap flap – CJ’s not coming to the party – flap flap – don’t know what to do.” She paused abruptly, “Well, you get the idea, and so here I am.” She sat down on the couch, gesturing for CJ to sit beside her, “So, the thought of seeing her sent you off the deep end eh?”

“Yeah.” CJ lowered herself onto the sofa, “Not sure why. I was just thinking how silly it seems.”

Donna shook her head, “Not really, especially not coming down from that post campaign high. We all know how that feels. The emotions involved.”

“You think that’s what it is?” CJ asked softly, glad to finally have someone to talk to, not realizing how desperately she’d needed it up until that point.

Again, Donna shook her head, “No, I don’t think it CJ, I know it. You’ve been part of this all consuming ‘thing’ for months now. On the campaign trail, part of the campaign family, living and breathing it 24/7 if I know Josh.” She smiled wistfully, “And boy, DO I know Josh. It’s been your life CJ, like caring for your dad was your life, and before that the Bartlet administration was your life, and now suddenly its stopped and you’re looking for the one thing that makes you feel complete again.” She paused, reaching out to take CJ in her arms, “And you and I both know what that is. Who that is.”

Her words whirled around in CJ’s head, making her feel physically sick. It was all very well to analyze and debate it and pinpoint the cause of her issues, but it didn’t mean she could do the first thing about it. She and Abbey were over; they had been for a long time.

She got to her feet, lost for a response, instead going to the kitchen to grab a bottle opener before returning to take the lids off of two of the beers. She offered one to Donna, then took the other, drinking from it briefly and then finally feeling ready to speak.

“What do I do?” She asked, “Because I can’t have her.”

Donna sighed, drinking from her own bottle, “I guess you’ve just got to find the next best thing.”

XXX

Towards the end of the night, Helen approached Abbey again, with more than a hint of trepidation. “Mrs Bartlet?” She said hesitantly, touching her on the shoulder.

Abbey whirled around, smiling when she saw who it was. “Helen darling.” She said, a look of amusement on her face, “Call me Abbey, because in about oooh, I don’t know, 6 weeks from now, you’re going to discover that being ‘Mrs’ anything is boring as Hell.”

Helen looked puzzled, but didn’t ask her to elaborate, too apprehensive following her earlier faux pas, of saying the wrong thing. Instead, she cleared her throat nervously, “I just wanted to say, about earlier, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like it came out. I didn’t mean to imply,”

Abbey cut her dead, “Child, stop it. You’re talking to the woman who once told the Queen of England that she didn’t look in old in person as she does on TV. Forget it.”

In spite of her earlier embarrassment Helen couldn’t help but laugh at the story, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Abbey nodded, although actually the whole tale was nothing more than a figment of her imagination, but she was keen to put the other woman at ease, especially since she needed something from her. “Actually,” she continued “on the subject of utterly inappropriate behaviour, could I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

She glanced around the room, checking that their conversation was going unheard, and then spoke again, “Where is CJ this evening?”

Helen followed Abbey’s lead, looked around before she spoke, “She has a migraine, that’s why she didn’t come.”

At her words Abbey laughed slightly, knowing full well that a migraine was the last thing that had kept CJ away that evening. A severed limb wouldn’t have kept her ‘off duty’ under normal circumstances. But then these circumstances, a meeting after four years, would have been a long way from normal. It was why she’d been so nervous about the function herself.

She barely had time to digest the information however, before Jed popped up beside them, performing a ‘stealth’ manoeuvre that seemed to be his forte these days, like he was keeping a much better eye on Abbey than she was keeping on him, in spite of her best intentions.

“Who has a migraine?” He asked, looking from one First Lady to the other, curiously.

Helen, eager to come to her new friend’s defence, and more than a little keen to make up for her earlier mistake, spoke up first,

“One of Matt’s campaign team.” She said, simply, thinking that keeping information to a minimum would be the best way.

Not so.

He turned to his wife with a frosty look in his eyes, “I assume by that she’s referring to Claudia Jean?”

Abbey sighed, excusing them both from Helen’s company, as she waved away the apologetic look that had appeared one of other woman’s face for the second time that evening, and steered him away, out of the ballroom and onto a nearby terrace that was all but deserted.

“Jed, it isn’t what you think.” She said softly, “It really isn’t.” She opened her mouth to explain, but found herself lost for words when she saw how hurt he looked, and realized that nothing she could say could make that any better, so hastily clamped it shut again, looking up at him helplessly.

Seeing her do so, he raised his eyes questioningly,

“Isn’t it ‘what I think’ Abigail? Because right now it seems like you went looking for her, when you were meant to be here with me…”

XXX


	28. Chapter 28

Going back was not what CJ expected it to be. She thought it would feel like going home; the building itself after all hadn’t really changed save for the odd renovation and paint job. But four years was a long time, and while the building may have been the same, the dynamics were different now, even if there were a few familiar faces around the place.

And in fact, the familiar faces themselves only served to highlight the fact that nothing – well almost nothing – was as it used to be. They were not who they used to be. Oh, as people yes, they were still the ones she’d known for the last eight years, but as far as positions went, things had changed.

People’s stars were in ascent.

Josh’s appointment had come first of course; no one had expected anything less. In winning the campaign for Matt he’d sealed his promotion to Chief of Staff and slipped easily into Leo’s old office. Likewise Sam, who was enjoying flexing his muscles as the new Director of Communications, torturing his Deputy with the rubber ball that Toby left behind. Even Donna had taken a step up the ladder.

In fact, of all the old faces, CJ was the only one who hadn’t been promoted, but then she hadn’t wanted to be. When she’d spoken to Josh the morning after the election, after she and Donna decided that she needed something to put her back up against, she’d been clear from the word go that there was only one job she’d consider coming back to do.

Her old one.

Putting her back on the podium could have been considered a move tantamount to political suicide, but for whatever reason Josh and Matt had gone for it, and now here she was.

Ready to step back into the fray.

She got up from her desk, checked her make up one last time, and then made her way into the office next to hers.

“You ready?”

Donna looked up at her, biting her lip nervously as only Donna could, “You seriously want me to come out there with you?”

CJ grinned, “You think I’m going in there without back up when their first question is going to be whether I prefer boys or girls these days?”

“Yeah but why me?”

CJ reached for Donna’s jacket, which was hanging on the back of the door, and threw it across the desk at her, “Because if I can’t use my Deputy as a shield, who can I use?”

X X X

Bringing Donna on board as Deputy Press Secretary had been the clincher of her deal with Josh. Had it not been for him agreeing to that, CJ might not have come back at all. It wasn’t that she felt the talented former assistant needed her help in finding a job – in fact, when she’d gone to her and offered her the post the other woman had been on the verge of agreeing a salary package with Leo’s office. But, she liked the idea of having a Wing Woman and couldn’t think of anyone better suited to the job.

Plus, she thought it more than a little stupid that Donna and Josh should let their unique ‘thing’ slip away over their combined stubbornness and bruised egos; not that it would ever be easy with those two, but at least if they were still in the same building cupid would have a slightly easier shot.

And she assumed they agreed, because neither had put up much resistance to the suggestion, and the deal was done. CJ was back where she belonged.

Not that she wasn’t apprehensive, but she wasn’t about to let the press see that.

She paused at the door to the briefing room, turning to face Donna, “Are we ready for this?”

Donna shrugged, “I don’t know if you are, but I’m shaking I’m so nervous.”

CJ smiled, holding out a trembling hand as a response. “Rule number 1,” she said, “never let the bastards see your fear.” She pushed her arms firmly down against her sides, “Let’s do it.”

She pushed open the door, making her way up onto the podium and surveying the sea of faces. A few remained from the last time she’d been there, but there were new ones too. Not that it mattered, she’d done her homework, knew who they all were.

“I’m CJ Cregg.” She began, smiling genially, “I’ll be your Press Secretary for this administration but in my absence please refer to,” she indicated Donna at her side, “Donnatella Moss who’ll be my co pilot, or Deputy Press Secretary as President Santos is insisting I call her.” She settled her gaze on Danny who was sat in the third row, grinning at her and then continued, “It’s nice to be back with you, and in anticipation of your first question I would like to confirm that I consider the First Lady to be an,” She pretended to think about it for a moment, although actually the very issue had been debated in the Senior Staff Meeting that morning, “eight on a good day. Maybe a nine at a push. Now, lets gets started,” she turned her attention to one of the new faces, “Patricia, your question please…”

X X X

“Does it feel strange?” Abbey asked Jed that evening as they sat in front of the television in their New Hampshire house, their only house as it happened, watching a news report about Matthew Santos’ first day in office..

“No longer being the most powerful man in the world?” He replied, looking thoughtful, “Do you know something Abbey? It does.”

She smiled, cuddling closer to him, “You’re the most powerful man in my world.”

He winked at her and was about to comment when he was distracted by the sight of CJ on the TV, in footage from her press conference earlier that day. Seeing what was happening and noting his reaction, she reached for the remote and went to change the channel but to her surprise he reached out and touched her arm to stop her.

“Don’t.” He murmured, “I always enjoyed her work. I’d like to see how she does. Wouldn't you?”

Hesitantly, Abbey nodded, putting the remote control back down on the coffee table, before sitting back to watch, although she was aware of Jed keeping half an eye on her as they did so.

There was no denying, she thought, that whoever had made the decision to appoint CJ had made the right one. Her performance on the podium was undeniably brilliant, and any credibility that she might have lost four years before, had obviously been regained. As Jed would later comment, the press conference was “quite a homecoming”.

Not that Abbey was just casting a professional eye over it. She wanted to stay impartial and focus on the politics, CJ's showmanship, the way the press were eating out of her hands, and yet, other things kept getting in the way.

The cut of her suit, defining her figure so perfectly. The twinkle in her eye as she fielded a particularly probing question. Her graceful neckline which Abbey remembered planting little rows of kisses down all too well.

It was that final thought which was in her head as the report came to an end, and Jed muted the TV to ask what she thought.

He didn't want to know what she thought. He really didn't. She got to her feet, and moved to the drinks cabinet to pour them each a drink, mumbling something non-committal about one of CJ's answers to a question about peace in the Middle East. To her relief, that was when Jed made the homecoming comment and then let the subject drop. She was glad – if she'd said any more she might just have given her feelings away, and that wasn't a risk she could take. It just wasn't an option.

X X X

“Well I want to propose a toast.”

They were in Josh's office, all four of them, Josh, Donna, CJ and Sam. The Four Musketeers back together again. Josh, on his feet, a warm bottle of beer held aloft, “To an awesome first day in office. You,” he looked at Sam, “just keep getting better, and you,” he smiled fondly at CJ, “were on fire out there today. Although,” he glanced down at his notepad, “Helen's been on. She was a little pissed at the 8 maybe 9, thought you might like to issue an apology and make it an 11.”

Laughing, CJ threw a piece of pizza crust at him, “She can dream on. There's only one First Lady for me.” She'd meant the comment as a joke but at her words the room fell silent and she found herself on the receiving end of three sets of concerned looks. She sighed, “Come on, you know what I mean.”

Sam, who was sat at her side nodded, “Sure, we know what you're saying, and we also know what you mean. We know how you feel about her. Its obvious your feelings have never changed.”

“Well that’s as maybe.” CJ replied, knowing that there was no point in lying to her friends, “But nunquam vultus tergum, or,” she translated, seeing their puzzled looks, “never look back.”

“You speak latin now?”

She nodded in response to Josh’s question, “I dabble. Its handy for the press.” She turned to Donna, “Remember that Deputy Dawg, its always useful to have some stock phrases to toss out. It confuses them into forgetting that you haven’t actually answered their questions.”

Donna made a mental note, but unlike the press she wasn’t about to let CJ off the hook that easily, “What are you going to do? About Abbey?”

CJ sighed, miserably tossing what was left of her pizza back in the box, her appetite officially deadned by their conversation, “Same thing I’ve done for the last four years. Try my god damn best to forget she ever existed.”

X X X


	29. Chapter 29

Much to her discomfort, CJ was still in Abbey's mind when she got into bed that evening. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get the other woman out of her head. It felt uncomfortable, and was disconcerting, but there was nothing she could do about it. Having seen the press conference earlier that evening, she just couldn't stop thinking about her in a way that hadn't been a problem in years.

It was therefore, ironic, and with a particularly unlucky sense of timing, that Jed chose that particular night to do something he hadn't done in 8 years. Something she'd spent a long time wanting.

Two words.

Spontaneous. Lovemaking.

He appeared in the bedroom just after her, a bottle of champagne in his hand. She looked up at him, surprised - it was the kind of romantic gesture she'd long since ever given up hope of experiencing again – and he just smiled awkwardly, like they were a pair of inexperienced twenty-somethings once more,

“Champagne kisses? Tender, slow, verging on rheumatic sex?”

His final words were a reminder that neither one of them was as young as they used to be, and yet, she couldn't help smile at his playfulness.

“You want to barbecue?” She reached for her Blackberry which was sat on the bedside table, and checked out her calendar before turning to him, feigning puzzlement, “There's nothing in the schedule darling.”

He reached out for her then, taking her in his arms, like a leading man in one of the 1940's black and white Hollywood gems that they shared a mutual love of, “The President and his First Lady had to schedule these things. Jed and Abbey don't.”

His words melted her, and she hastily shoved CJ to the back of her mind, where she knew deep down that she belonged. She leant into him, kissing him deeply, “Is that so?” She moved closer still to him; in that moment she'd have crawled into his heart if she could have done, “Well in that case, I love being Jed and Abbey. I've missed them.”

Her words were meant with all the good intentions in the world, they were meant innocently, without criticism or double meaning, and yet, as they left her lips, she saw Jed's face fall.

“I know you did.” He let his arms fall from around her, his voice tight with obvious tension, “I'm trying to make things better here Abbey.”

She sighed, feeling bad for having hurt him although unclear as to how it had happened so quickly, “Jed,” she reached out, put her hand on his arm, “I know. I want to make things better too.” And she did, really she did. Her hormones raging over CJ was one thing, but her place was with Jed, and now they were out of the White House, they had the chance to improve things beyond measure. To get back to the way they were. She pulled him close to her again, kissing him once more, wanting a proper reunion too much to want them to fall at the first hurdle.

To his credit, he got back in his stride quickly, matching her kiss with equal passion if not more, and yet, as they found themselves making love Abbey couldn't help but wonder where the magic had gone. It wasn't that it was bad, or uncomfortable, or even unpleasurable . It felt good, and yet...

It wasn't what she'd expected. She'd thought that being out of The White House would have meant recapturing what they used to have, turning back the clock 8 years. She hadn't expected good, she'd expected amazing. And it wasn't. It was comfortable. Companionable.

As they lay curled up though, drinking the champagne, she tried to push her disappointment, and her doubts away. Made excuses; their age, their being tired, the fact it might take time. And yet it still kept eating away at her.

And Jed too apparently, because he was the one who finally raised it.

“You're not happy.”

It was a statement not a question, which was a relief to Abbey, because it gave her a get out clause and meant she could avoid responding. That said, the relief was short lived, as he continued, going straight for the jugular as he did so.

“For you, there was more frisson in watching CJ's press conference than there was in making love to me.”

She looked up at him sharply, “No!”

He sighed, “Abigail, please, credit me with some intelligence. More than that, credit me with a something resembling a working knowledge of you. Do you have any idea how dilated your pupils were when you were watching that news item? Do you think I didn't notice how flushed you were?” His words were cutting and yet, somewhat surprisingly, his tone was gentle, “Abbey, we've been together a long time, I'm very much aware of what you – aroused – looks like.”

For all his gentleness and although he seemed resigned to it all, she wasn't prepared to let it go that easily, and reached for him desperately, “I was aroused just now.”

He shook his head, “No.”

“I was. You know I was. I came.” Suddenly nothing seemed more important than convincing him of the fact. It was one thing trying to make a go of things with him, but another entirely if they were going to spend the rest of their lives debating who turned her on more, him or CJ. It would be unbearable, and so it needed to be put to bed there and then. “You heard me.” She insisted.

“Yes.” He conceded, “I heard contented sighs, the occasional throaty moan forced out to convince me that I'm still Tom Cruise to you.” He reached out, taking her hand, “But I can only begin to imagine how you'd have sounded if you'd been with her. And,” he said, very matter of factly, “I think you should be.”

“You think what?” Abbey's head was spinning with the sudden, unexpected turn of events, “You think I should be with her? Now? After four fucking years?” The champagne flute in her hand went flying, not with anger but because she physically or mentally couldn't control her emotions in any way shape or form in the face of what he was telling her, “Whatever happened to wanting to make it better Josiah? That was what you said wasn't it? That you wanted to make it better?”

He nodded calmly, “Yes Abigail, and that was a last ditch attempt.” He wiped a tear from her eyes, that she hadn't even noticed was there until that moment, “I wanted to see if I could still do it for you. But I didn't. And if I can't do it in Manchester Abbey, I can't do it anywhere.” He leant over, kissing her cheek, “But she can.” He squeezed her hand tightly and then let go, “Go to her.”

His words were a catalyst for an outpouring of tears - four years worth in fact – and she found herself, sat in her marital bed, a bed where she'd slept with both her husband and her lover, crying her eyes out and no knowing if she was doing so for the past she'd lost, or her fear of the future.

“She might not want me.” She wept softly, knowing as she did so, that she was effectively ending her marriage, although, some might have argued that she'd done that a long time ago.

Jed sighed, pulling her into his arms, “Abigail, she broke her own heart to try and save yours, I don't think you can doubt her commitment to you, not for a second.”

X X X

Ever since CJ had returned to DC, and indeed, for as long as she could remember before she had left the city originally, Sunday morning had meant one thing, and one thing only.

Brunch at Woodley Cafe.

In the old days it had been in walking distance of her apartment, and even though now it meant her hopping on the metro, she still made the journey every week without fail. She'd find a table on the deck outside, and then settle down with a pot of freshly ground coffee and the little bar/restaurant's legendary Breakfast Burritos. With all the hustle bustle and chaos that came with life at the White House, it was her one bit of calm in the whole week, and she wouldn't disturb it for anyone, not even Josh, who during the recent campaign habitually would call her 20 or 30 times on any given Sunday morning just because he knew she wouldn't answer the phone.

And in actual fact, to ensure her special place of peace and tranquillity stayed just that; peaceful and tranquil, she'd never told a soul about it; its name, its location or even that it existed. To do so, she felt, would be tempting fate, and leave her, and it, wide open to gatecrashers.

Which was why, on the first Sunday after the Inauguration, it came as some surprise to her when a shadow fell over her paper as she was reading it, and she heard someone saying her name. She sighed, a little miffed that her routine was being broken into - even the waiting staff knew just to process her usual order without asking and then discreetly deliver it when it was ready – but as she glanced up, her irritation instantly transformed into surprise.

“Abbey?”

Her former lover said nothing, just nodded silently, biting her lip, clearly incredibly nervous. CJ knew how she felt; her own heart had been in her throat from the first second that it had registered with her just who was standing in front of her. For a few seconds she did nothing, drinking in the sight of her, trying to get to grips with having her so close after so long, but then she hesitantly gestured that Abbey should join her, and once the other woman had sat down she asked the question that had been burning away in her head since the first moment she saw her.

“What are you doing here?”

Abbey shrugged, “I needed to see you, and this was the only place I could guarantee where you'd be at any given time. Plus,” she added, leaning across the table to wipe a smear of salsa from CJ's mouth with her finger, a gesture that felt both incongruously intimate to CJ, yet also so utterly right, “I thought you might need me to tidy you up. You used to.”

It was then that CJ realised that she had shared the restaurant's location with someone; she and Abbey had been for several clandestine brunches there during the course of their affair, but all the same, it didn't explain everything. She took a deep breath,

“Why did you need to see me?”

There was a beat, a mere moment and then Abbey held up her left hand, leaving CJ at a loss as to what she was supposed to be seeing.

Then she realised. It wasn't about what she should be seeing. It was what she wasn't.

She gripped the edge of the table, feeling slightly dizzy, wondering if she was reading too much into the situation and not wanting to be disappointed if she was wrong. She swallowed hard,

“Why aren't you wearing your wedding ring?”

“I'm getting divorced. It's over Claud, Jed and I are through. I care about him but I don't love him. I can't love him.” She continued softly, “Because I love you. I want to be with you. Please.” It came out as little more than a whisper but there was no mistaking what was said, nor the look of sheer desperation in Abbey's eyes, nor the use of the nickname that had only ever been used when they were lovers.

All the same, after four years without Abbey, CJ was still struggling to believe it,

“Are you serious?”

Abbey nodded apprehensively, still scared, even after Jed's reassurances to the contrary, that she was about to be rejected.

She needn't have worried. Within seconds, she found herself in CJ's arms.

“Abs darling,” CJ said softly, kissing her gently, “I can't think of anything I want more.”

X X X

Epilogue

It was the perfect day for a wedding, CJ thought, as she stood in the hotel garden in the sunshine. In less than an hour she'd be walking down the aisle, but at that moment, while everyone else was getting ready, her time was her own, and she couldn't resist playfully swirling around, feeling herself get all silly and girlie thanks to her beautiful dress.

“Someone's enjoying themselves.”

She turned to find Abbey stood there, looking chic in a classic trouser suit. CJ blushed, self concious and shy at having been caught in the act. She opened her mouth to explain but she found herself being silenced with a kiss.

“Its OK.” Abbey said softly when they parted, “You look adorable, and anyway,” she added, “if the Chief Bridesmaid can't act like a princess then who can?”

Her words prompted more blushes from CJ, but rather than answer the rhetorical question, she instead had one of her own.

“Where's Lily?”

Abbey smiled, “Stop worrying mommy, she's fine. Jed's putting ribbons in her hair for her.” CJ must have looked startled at the suggestion of Jed hairdressing because Abbey was quick to add, “Don't panic. Her big sister is on hand to help out, but you know how mad she is for Jed.”

CJ did know. It was a constant source of amusement to all of them that the little girl, who they'd adopted from China earlier in the year, had zeroed in on Abbey's ex husband when she'd first met him at Zoey's birthday party. It could have been awkward, but Lily, even at the age of 3, was an absolute charmer and had brought them all together, cliché as it sounded, into one big happy, if not slightly unorthodox family.

Well almost. Ellie and Elizabeth still couldn't bring themselves to forgive Abbey, and although CJ knew it still hurt her, between them Zoey and Lily were healing the pain it caused.

“How's Donna?” Abbey asked breaking into her thoughts, “Shouldn't you be with her?”

She shook her head, “She wanted some time alone. She's fine. Josh?”

Abbey smiled, “Arguing with Samuel over the Best Man's speech.” She slipped her hand into CJ's, “Something to do with a certain story involving the bride and her chief bridesmaid.” Her smile widened into a grin, “Remember the one?”

CJ found herself blushing again at the memory of the night she and Donna kissed, “He's not got that photo has he?”

“Oh I do hope so.” Abbey winked, “It makes me horny.”

“Abigail.” CJ pointed out, laughing slightly, “Everything makes you horny.” She leant over and kissed her, “You're insatiable.”

“And you wouldn't want me any other way.”

“Actually,” she replied, slightly hesitantly, “there is one thing I'd change about you.” She bit her lip nervously, a gesture she seemed to have picked up from Donna over the years, and then took a deep breath, “Our life together is amazing Abbey, I've loved spending every single second with you.” And she meant 'every single second', since Matt had released her from her role at The White House, the two of them were rarely apart. “But, seeing Donna today, I realised I want something more.” Slowly, so as not to fall over her bridesmaid dress she lowered herself to the floor, ignoring Abbey who began to shriek, making copious amounts of noise about the possibility of grass stains, and getting onto one knee, an action that eventually silenced her girlfriend as she stared at her with a stunned expression on her face.

She cleared her throat, “Abbey, Abs, will you marry me?”

A rogue tear slid down Abbey's cheek, “You want to marry me? Really? But... why?”

From her position on the floor, CJ rolled her eyes, “Because I love you, because you're beautiful, because I think it would be good for our daughter and even better for us.” She grinned, “Because I want to be your wife. Because, and I think this is pretty safe to say, this is definitely not the jackal. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Yes!” Abbey slipped down onto the floor beside her, pulling her into her arms before gently lowering her to the ground, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She kissed her passionately, rolling her underneath her on the lawn, all thoughts of grass stains long forgotten, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“That's a yes then?” CJ wisecracked, but her obvious joy was written all over her face.

“Yes, its a yes.” Abbey kissed her again before pulling back to look at her, “So what the hell happens now?”

CJ smiled, “What happens now?” She brushed Abbey's hair out of her eyes, stroking her cheek tenderly, “We live happily ever after of course...”


End file.
